Mower to Manhattan

Tri-City Tales Issue No. 36

Honey, as he was first named, arrived at the vet’s office on a riding lawnmower. He didn’t look like much, with a flea infestation so severe he had scratched off most of his hair. His eyes were red and swollen. He was listless.

Honey had recently been taken in by a senior citizen in DeSoto who no longer drove a car, so she used the only wheels she had: a green and yellow John Deere. Underneath the puffy eyes and patchy hair, Honey still seemed happy to be there, says veterinarian Caroline Brown. “Everyone immediately fell in love with him,” she says.

Dr. Brown prescribed eye drops and medicated baths. Over the next week, his new owner gently nursed him back to healthy, excited tail wags. But an energetic dog in need of constant attention proved to be too much for an older person. Dr. Brown took Honey to Tri-City Animal Shelter for his vaccinations, and he was soon on a transport to Hearts and Bones, an animal rescue non-profit in New York. Though she has seen thousands of dogs in her career, she teared up saying goodbye.

About this time, across the country in New York City, Caroline MacLachlan had been grieving her family dog, who had passed away months earlier of old age. “It was like losing a part of my childhood,” says Caroline, who was born and raised in the city. “I was completely destroyed.”

By March of this year, Caroline had decided she was emotionally strong enough to consider another dog. She attended a Hearts and Bones event, just to check out the organization. Then someone walked in with Honey. “He wasn’t even supposed to be there,” she says. He had just arrived in town; his foster home planned to wait until more hair had grown back, and his eyes had improved. But through some mix up, there he was.

He won Caroline’s heart. “He just came prancing in, saying hello to everyone,” she says. She knew immediately she was not leaving without him. He didn’t seem to respond to “Honey,” so she started calling him Sport. Then one day Caroline tried saying “Honey” with a Texas drawl. That, he knew.

That was five months ago. He now goes by Sport. He has flowy, well-groomed hair, and his eyes are clear and bright. “He’s put so much life in the house,” Caroline says. They live across the street from Central Park, where he gets several walks a day. He has embraced the life of a Manhattan socialite — sleeping in a Laura Ashley bed, riding the subway with Caroline, and stopping for New York City doormen with dog treats in their pockets.

He may have seen his last John Deere, but he will always know how to make an entrance.