Dog's life a story of survival

ST. LOUIS -- On a summer Sunday morning, Ellie Torgeson Harris turned her car onto Park Avenue at Mississippi Avenue in Lafayette Square.

To the east on Park, she saw what appeared to be a dog, staggering. She went closer and recoiled in horror at what a veterinarian later determined were acid burns. "He literally didn't have a face," she said.

The dog was shepherd size and dragging a 30-pound chain. The chain was embedded in his neck.

That encounter in late June began the region's love affair with a plucky pup, only 9 months old when Harris found him. He was featured on television and in the newspaper. More than 400 people sent him cards. About 100 people offered to adopt him.

People put up a $10,000 reward for evidence leading to the arrest of the person who had abused him. No one has been arrested. A woman paid nearly $4,000 for his veterinary supplies. Now he has a new face and a new life. His name is Rick.

On that first summer day, Harris knocked on doors to get help. Mindy Bier rushed out of her home with a food bucket and hot dogs.

Jenn Silverberg, who was visiting a friend in the square, came to help, as did Ramona Rossman, 42, who was volunteering at Stray Rescue, a group that rescues stray animals.

When they got to the spot where Harris had seen the dog, he was gone. They figured he was in the nearby City Hospital complex, a collection of abandoned buildings that fills blocks. Harris ran back to round up more help.

Silverberg, Rossman and Bier began picking their way through the ruins. They listened for the sound of a dragging chain. Suddenly they heard it, coming from the bottom of a flight of steps. The trio stood at the head of the stairwell, and Bier threw pieces of hot dog into the darkness. The dog emerged.

His face was redder than his tongue. His nose was gone. Patches of skin were missing from his forelegs and upper body. He smelled of rotting flesh.

Searching for help

Spontaneously, all three began to cry. As for the dog, "He was so hungry. He just went wherever the bucket went," Bier said. "He was sweet and docile."

They headed to the Animal Emergency Clinic in Kirkwood. They had three questions: Was he in pain? Could he survive? How could anyone do this?

They have yet to find an answer to the last question. Veterinarians who treated Rick said that the dog had been injured four to five days before he was found. The most acute pain had subsided, and now he would wear a narcotic patch.

As for survival, all bets were with Rick.

"When he came in, he was wagging his tail," said Dr. Debra Primovic, the veterinarian who cared for him at Animal Emergency Clinic. "He had an incredible will to survive. He was only worried about getting attention and getting food."

As his wounds were being cleansed, Rick neither growled nor snapped. As they were treating Rick's sores, Primovic noticed something tiny and moving that looked like rice. Maggots had filled Rick's lesions. It took Primovic two hours to remove the vermin.

The technicians gave Rick some food, then placed him in a crate to sleep, but the puppy sat up, fixing a begging eye on anyone who walked by. He got a lot more food.

Randy Grim, the director of Stray Rescue, took Rick to see Dr. Mary Jean Gorse, a veterinary surgeon with Veterinary Specialty Services in Brentwood. Over the next six weeks, Rick had five surgeries. Gorse moved skin from his side to his face and removed scar tissue from his eyelids.

Gorse and her staff donated their time to Rick. Gorse said that to Rick, the acid would have felt wet, and there would have been a time lapse between the acid hitting Rick and the pain. So Rick may not associate a person with the source of his pain.

Remarkable recovery

Today, except for a red ring around the left eye and tendency to scrape his nose, Rick has a classic brown and black Rottweiler's face. Gorse plans to fix the eye and the nose.

On Aug. 3, Rick left the vet's office for Stray Rescue. He had gained 12 pounds. It was time to find him a real home. But there was a problem. Rick chewed -- on his covers, on his leash and on shirts. He could wiggle off a leash. He jumped on people.

So Rick paid a visit to Dorene Olson, an animal behavioral consultant, who helps Stray Rescue reform dogs. Olson uses positive reinforcement to train a dog.

She also has two dogs: Poppy, an American Staffordshire Terrier, and Tess, a lurcher. Dogs can learn by copying. In the dog world, the two female dogs outranked Rick. When they thought he played too hard, they growled or shot him a dirty look. He would fall to the ground with his side up to show submission and play less roughly.

For most of August and September, Grim of Stray Rescue and the group's assistant director, Jenifer Strohbeck, looked for an adoptive home for Rick. An application of a couple from St. Charles looked promising.

The couple did not want media exposure. They admired Rick's heart. If their dog, Hazel, a mastiff and shepherd mix, and Rick got along, they wanted Rick. The couple came to the Olsons with Hazel for a trial visit. Immediately the two dogs began to play. They ran in giant circles and stopped only when exhausted crashing together in a heap.

Rick had found a family.