Riding the Underdog Railroad

A Sad History

Paddy spent years in a cage at an outdoor pound before being taken home temporarily to the spacious, hill country backyard of Laurie and Issac Browder.

The Browders are avid animal rescuers who spent the last year -- and $40,000 of their own money -- running a "no kill" shelter in a county with no public animal control. Finally, they couldn't afford it anymore.

Knowing that she had to shut down, Laurie Browder e-mailed an urgent, mass appeal to dozens of rescue groups around the country in an attempt to place more than 130 cats and dogs.

People responded from across the United States. Browder said she made potential adopters fill out long applications, checked references and arranged home inspections when possible.

Paddy was the last to go. A photo of him gazing solemnly up at the camera was posted like all the others. The description was brief: "Breed: Irish Terrier Mix? Color: Brown. Age: Senior. Temperament: Very, very sweet, yet timid around strangers."

Finally, Browder heard from a woman in California. Sherry Meddick, a well-known environmentalist and animal rescuer in Orange County, had already taken three dogs from Browder, and was now volunteering to bring Paddy out West too, "to keep his buddy Rusty company," she said. They had lived in cages next to each other at the pound.

Browder agreed to the adoption, and Sescilla, who had helped her move dozens of animals already, went to work.

She mapped out possible 60- to 120-mile legs, then sent e-mails to a contact list of more than 1,200 fellow coordinators and potential drivers. It wasn't easy.

One in four of her transports falls apart, Sescilla says, because of the lack of drivers in sparsely populated areas. For Paddy, the West Texas leg proved tough. But an Albuquerque woman finally volunteered to drive eight hours over two days.

"It's a crazy thing to do, and it's hard to do, but somehow it all happens," Sescilla said.

Paddy's journey began before dawn one drippy October Saturday. Laurie Browder sat cradling the old dog like a baby in the front seat of her husband's Jeep.

"He looks so sad.... He doesn't know what's going on," she said, starting to cry. "I'm trying not to think about it."

An hour later, at 7:50 a.m., they arrived at a McDonald's parking lot, where they handed over a frightened-looking Paddy -- along with his purple blanket, a travel crate, his vaccination papers and enough kibble for three days -- to Linda and Dan Knott.