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Jewells.

Birth: ???
Death: March 18th 2008

This photo, was used in a 2005 article I wrote for the Alaskan Malamute Help League's member-only newsletter, about Jewells, her adoption and her new life with my family.

Taken from the 2005 Spring (I think it was spring) AMHL's Howler.

"Jewells has come a long, long way from where she was when my folks adopted her. At first, she didn't know how to play! She didn't know that she was safe, and that no one in the household would harm her. Brushing her was out of the question at first, because any little tug on her fur (some of which was horribly matted) would send her into terrified crying hysterics, which, in turn, sent us into worried hysterics as well.

We and the Rescue League didn't have a clue as to what her medical or personal history was. We knew nothing about her, other than what we observed, and what we saw in her reactions and personality only made us worry more. She had been abused, that much was certain. She'd flinch and eye us with fear every time we tried to touch her, and to this day she still inhales her meals as if she's afraid that the food won't be there tomorrow.

She had a very, very rocky medical start. Not only was she diagnosed with hyperthyroidism that had been plaguing her for Gods know how many years, but after a few months, she ended up with Pyometra, and what was worse, it had ruptured internally. It was a very frightening time for all of us, because we didn't want to lose her. Especially since we hadn't yet had the chance to show her that life wasn't just comprised of pain and fear.

But she was, and still is, a strong and stubborn one. She made it through the emergency surgery, and once she was healed from surgery and on a steady dose of thyroid medication, her moods started to echo her improving health.

To this day, however, she is still afraid of loud noises like thunderstorms and sounds that accompany small indoor renovations. When thunder rolls, she paces around the house in a near nervous wreck, then, after almost fifteen minutes, she hides in the smallest and darkest place she can find. Usually under a table, or behind one of the plush chairs in the living room, where upon she faces the closest corner and curls up into a little ball. Sometimes she'll hop up onto the couch and curl up next to whomever is sitting there, doing her best to wedge her head between the person and the back of the couch.

She's still very quiet for a malamute, and doesn't 'talk', as it were. But we take heart in the fact that she now howls along with fire trucks that pass by. These days, she'll rumble at you when she gets sick of being brushed, and maybe add a mutter or two when she yawns, but other than that, we can only tell where she is by the soft 'clicking' that her claws make on the hardwood floors. (When she's on the carpet, you really can't hear her coming. It freaked me out the first time I met her, because she snuck up on me at night and nearly gave me a heart attack.)

But throughout the months that my parents have had her, her recovery has come in leaps and bounds. Every time I visit, she acts more like a malamute, and less like an abuse victim. She plays like a puppy, proudly carrying her favourite squeaky bear around the house while playing a constant 'keep away' from us two-legers. She's slowly learning how to catch (only as long as you toss her favourite toy, or a cookie, otherwise she'll just follow it with her eyes and then look at you as if to say "what was the point of that?")

We can groom her now, but only in small doses (which really doesn't help at the moment since she's blowing her coat... Gods the fur....), and when she gets tired of being brushed, she grumbles and walks away in a huff, which is rather hilarious to see. She is still highly food motivated, and we know that she didn't have a stable, or proper diet, before we chose her, because she still drools at the sight of a McDonalds wrapper, and will eat anything that is within her reach (even when we try to keep everything -out- of her
reach).

Obedience training still goes at a snail's pace. Now that she's realising that she won't be severely 'punished' if she doesn't obey, she'll sit, and maybe she'll give a paw, but unless she knows you have a dog cookie in your hand, you can pretty much rule out the 'come', unless she's in a lively mood. And when she knows you have a cookie, down is impossible, because she bounces around like a very furry kangaroo so much that all four paws barely touch the floor. Training is still a 'baby-step' system, because she'll still flinch and tense up if you try to correct her. We're trying to find other ways to teach her, but again, its slow going.

Complete trust may never happen. The stain of her abuse and neglect may -never- vanish, but we'll take whatever she's willing and able to give with open arms and loving hearts and a belly rub for good measure."

Article © France and the Alaskan Malamute Help League