Satisfaction guaranteed: Save a good dog in need

Maggie's origins are forever shrouded in mystery.

After an animal-control officer apprehended her as a stray somewhere in North Charleston in June 1992, a veteran veterinarian gauged her age at no less than six months, no more than one year.

After nobody showed up within two weeks to claim her at the John Ancrum SPCA shelter on Leeds Avenue, she was put up for adoption.

After my 8-year-old daughter and I entered the shelter a week or so later, the feisty little mutt of apparent terrier lineage charmed her way to becoming our No. 2 choice.

After a shelter staffer's candor revealed that our first No. 1 choice, a cute Corgi, had been given up by a fed-up owner who branded her a serial chewer of furniture upholstery and drapes, lucky No. 2 became No. 1.

After we got her home and beheld her iron will, we named her Maggie, in honor of Margaret "The Iron Lady" Thatcher.

See, some female candidates appeal to conservatives.

Thus began Maggie's long, continuing and utterly gratifying stint as a member of our family. She's now at least 16 in people years, at least 80 in dog years. But she's still scruffy.

OK, so she can't run very far, fast or often anymore. She can't chase birds at the beach. She can't climb the stairs or jump on the bed, necessitating carrying her up the former and lifting her onto the latter. She's almost deaf.

So what? Her unique gait retains an enchanting lilt on the rare occasions when she picks up her pace. Her paws still occasionally rev into pursuit gear as she lies dreaming.

Her intense interest in spots where other critters have left their marks endures. So does her disdain for cats and squirrels.

She remains tolerant of other dogs, including a bubbly next-door puppy, a Yorkshire terrier/miniature pinscher mix.

Best of all, Maggie remains my biggest fan. Her sincere homecoming greetings deliver timely spirit lifts.

People can fake friendship and loyalty. Dogs can't.

People want your money. Dogs don't.

Dogs just want to be all yours. A grand assortment of them awaits your approval — and your rescue from premature death — at the sparkling new Charleston Animal Society Shelter on Remount Road.

The efficiently designed facility is a glorious leap forward from its depressing predecessor, the Leeds Avenue relic ominously situated alongside the Charleston County Jail.

Though the new shelter's grand opening doesn't come until next Saturday, it's already in operation. You can adopt a dog — or cat, rabbit, hamster or snake — for a reasonable price that helps cover the spaying/neuter cost. You also can turn your pet in if you can't — or won't? — take care of it any longer.

At times that's a painful but unavoidable call.

Many times it's a selfish, irresponsible call. Every summer, the volume of turned-in pets surges as folks who don't deserve dogs dump them because they complicate vacation plans.

That means more unwanted pets, more euthanizations, more need for one of the new shelter's modern advantages — a crematorium.

So don't adopt a pet without adopting a long-term commitment. But don't underestimate the joys that come with a fine dog.

Our species has lots of awful flaws. We tend to be violent, greedy, envious, selfish, shortsighted, ill-informed, lazy, petty, gullible, bigoted and stupid.

Then again, we must not be all bad. Otherwise, why would a species as admirable as dogs — noble descendents of wolves — like us so much?

Dogs guide the blind, comfort the sick, guard our property, herd sheep, point out prey, smell out bombs and catch crooks. However, they don't just help us find bad guys.

These devoted pals help us find the good in ourselves. And you can find a terrific dog at that terrific new shelter.

Take, for instance, Kenya, a sweet, pretty chow mix with dark red hair and dancing brown eyes. This photo, taken during a visit to the shelter a few days ago, doesn't do her justice.

But you could.

While the new shelter is wonderful, its most valuable attraction is the same one the old shelter offered — the chance to get a great pet.

Maggie, meanwhile, is heading for her last roundup due to a malignant tumor. She won't be subjected to extraordinary measures that might extend her farewell — and her suffering.

After she makes her final chase in her final dream, she'll be a tough act to follow.

Yet after our grief finally subsides a bit, the shelter — and its endearing canine inhabitants — will beckon us again.

One of those dogs will get lucky again.

So will we.

Frank Wooten is associate editor of The Post and Courier. His e-mail is wooten@postandcourier.com.