“Sean Casey Animal Rescue is a special shelter, more than just a no-kill shelter SCAR is a community. From the retired folks and adults with odd jobs who volunteer to walk dogs, to the school kids who descend daily on the place like a flock of birds. It is always over-flowing with activity. To put it in modern terms, SCAR, this Brooklyn community of animal-lovers, has over forty thousand friends on Facebook.
When they posted a photo of Prince and me leaving SCAR together, the community’s reaction was overwhelming, with over five thousand ‘likes,’ over four hundred ‘comments’ and well over two hundred ‘shares.’ Why the out-pouring of love for Prince? Well, Prince was a special case. He had been at SCAR for over two years! Yes, this community had taken care of Prince. At one point, someone had painted a portrait of Prince to feature on the facebook page. From the people who walked him, to the people who trained him, and to the staff who fed him and played with him… they all declared their joy that Prince was adopted.
In April, I came to volunteer at SCAR, nearly one year since I lost my dear Roxy. I had found her in front of the Brooklyn Museum of Art, fifteen years earlier, starved and traumatized. I didn’t always know what I was doing, as I struggled to bring her out of her shell. In time, she blossomed into a healthy boxer-staffordshire mix, a self-assured Brooklyn dog, a celebrity in the neighborhood.
As I walked Prince everyday, I noticed he never made eye contact. He reminded me of Roxy, timid, weak and lanky (having grown in a confined space). Also, he suffered from something the staff called ‘Happy Tail Syndrome,’ caused when a dog wags his tail so hard against his cage it causes bleeding wounds.
I didn’t think I registered on him, until one sunny afternoon. As we walked back to the shelter, I decided to sit down to enjoy the moment. We sat shoulder to shoulder for a minute, then he turned to me to give me a big lick on my cheek. He had the goofy, undisciplined energy of a puppy, in a large male pit bull, making his chances of adoption, in a city of small apartment dwellers, very low.
Prince came home the first week in May, and throughout the summer, he struggled with the sounds of life outside a shelter, from the coffee maker to skateboards. By August, I put away the crate. Yes, Prince had discovered the joys of a couch. It’s been seven months and I’m surprised how quickly he has become my dog. We play with toys. In the mornings, we snuggle in bed. He loves to chomp on a carrot. There isn’t a day Prince doesn’t pull himself up to my face and give me a big lick on the cheek, or the lips, if I let him, while he’s whacking me with his happy tail.” – Mimi