Rodeo Star Wanted

Donna, Mason, and I were worried that after we pulled the M8, Dawn might disappear, but she hasn’t. She’s staying close to Bernice’s house, searching for her pups, wondering where they are and when they’re coming back.

This was the last text I got from Bernice, the fisherwoman that feeds Dawn and had found her pups, yesterday afternoon: “Can’t get mom to eat I put milk out and got her a can of food. She just lay around. She cry at night.”

Donna, ICHBA administrator, is ordering a catch pole, which is basically a really long stick with a collar at the end, but until that arrives, we are at a loss. We’ve called animal control offices in surrounding counties and they said even if they had a tranquilizer gun, they wouldn’t drive to Robertson County to help. Every shelter in Tennessee is overloaded right now.

While we had been scouring Dawn’s neighborhood, we found out why the sedatives aren’t knocking her out: three other places, a halfway house, a Wendy’s, and a nursing home feed her, meaning that dog probably swallowed those pills on a full stomach. That little rascal is smart, isn’t she? I mean she’s working the entire hood, surviving without allowing a single human to touch her. In fact, depending on who you talk to, Dawn is known as Momma, Buckwheat, or Blackie, but not one person we met has ever been able to put their hands on her.

One of the great parts of this venture is that Dawn’s whole community, a rough neighborhood with whole lot of shady -looking transactions and police patrols, have opened their arms to ICHBA, promising not to feed her so that we’ll have an easier time of  sedating, capturing, vetting, spaying, and hopefully – cross your fingers- domesticating her.

Until we get the catch-pole, Farnival contributor, Geoff Reed, suggested finding a cattle rancher that can use a lasso. Donna’s already on the horn calling a rodeo producer, who lives right here in Springfield, TN, Dawn’s hometown