The Rescue of a Rez Dog

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There’s a special spot in my heart for rez dogs, which is the term I use to describe the often-unkempt and sorta mangy mutts I frequently found cruising around the Bad River Indian Reservation when I worked there for a year in 2005. Most of the time these pups had a home base, but — because they were neither tethered nor fixed — they’d be off gleefully exploring the reservation’s wilderness, in search of a meal or mate. Being a bleeding-heart animal lover, I was compelled on several occasions to lure these dogs into my car and return them to their homes.

Meet the latest object of my rescue obsession, Freaky:

Freaky was found wandering on State Highway 13 south of Red Cliff.

I found Freaky about a week ago, when my new beau Mark and I were driving through the Red Cliff Indian Reservation on State Highway 13. We’d seen Freaky, who was loose and looked a little nervous, at the powwow grounds about an hour before. But when we encountered Little Freaky this second time, he was running down the busy highway, in danger of being hit by a car.

So, we pulled over to the side of the highway, put on the emergency blinkers and lured the little guy into my car, where at first he sat nervously on the floor, near the gas pedal. A few bits of kibble finally helped him feel comfortable enough to jump onto my lap, where he stayed and trembled nervously until we made it to the powwow parking lot. There, Mark made a makeshift leash from my hiking boots’ shoelaces and we went into the powwow grounds to locate his owner, whose tattooed arm appears in the picture above.

Actually, Freaky — who I presume earned his name because of his propensity to hump humans’ legs, although he can’t really be blamed for that, because he wasn’t neutered — actually belongs to Mr. Tattooed Arm’s mother, who evidently knew the dog was missing but wasn’t all that concerned about finding him.

I sort of wanted to keep Little Freaky, but I had to turn him over. Later, I caught this shot of him contentedly watching the powwow’s grand entry alongside one of his humans:

Little Freaky, back with his family at last.

Maybe I’m just projecting my desire to be needed onto this little mutt, but as I was leaving the powwow, I swear Little Freaky was looking at me with love and longing in his eyes:

"Karen," Freaky thought. "Won't you take me home?"

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