In the summer of 1996, destiny struck again. He was driving from his
parents' ranch to Medina when he noticed a kitten in the middle of the
road. "A great white hunter had shot one of its front legs,"
he says.
He rushed the kitten to veterinarian Bill Hoegemeyer who operated on
the animal twice and amputated its injured leg. Hence, the kitten earned
the name Lucky. Friedman took it in. Because he traveled frequently, Friedman
turned to friend Nancy Parker, who already watched after his dog, Mr.
McGoo, also rescued from a pound. Lucky and Parker bonded. "I had
to give Lucky to Nancy," he says.
Since then, Parker and companion Tony Simons have come to accept that
on any given day Friedman is likely to drive up with dogs that need homes.
"These dogs are literally from death's door. That's why they are
so special," Friedman says.
Back to Lucky. His toughness - he's killed two rattlesnakes - and determination
to survive came to symbolize Friedman and Parker's dream of starting a
rescue ranch for abused and abandoned animals.
This May, Friedman appr,oached Parker about starting a dog rescue operation
on her 7 acre plot. "Hell, they already had a zoo here,"
Friedman says of the 12 Barbados sheep, 10 dogs and a duck named Kathy
that is the meanest animal on the property.
Parker didn't flinch. "I love animals. What could I say? I just
asked how," she says.
He sent out letters to 5,000 people telling them about Utopia Rescue
Ranch. The letters started: "like Mark Twain and Winston Churchill,
the more I see of life the less I appreciate people and the more I appreciate
animals." Country singer Dwight Yoakam donated money. Friedman convinced
several friends, including former Gov. Ann Richards, singer Willie Nelson,
U.S. Rep. Lamar Smith, talk show host Sammy Allred and authors Sarah Bird
and Bud Shrake, to serve on the advisory board. Business executive John
McCall, a friend, paid for the fence and pens to contain the dogs. The
pens bear the names of Richards, Smith, Bird and Shrake on wooden plaques.
A "Bone-efit" concert with Willie and Yoakam is being planned.
'"Every dream has to start somewhere. This may not be the slickest
operation, but these dogs are all loved and cared for," Friedman
says.
On Sept. 1, when the fence went up, Parker, Simons and Friedman went
to pounds in Kerrville and Hondo looking for dogs that were going to be
euthanized.
"You could see it in the dogs' eyes. They knew they were going to
die. They smelled it," says Parker. "When we got them in the
truck they wouldn't stop licking us. You can't tell me those dogs didn't
know what was about to happen to them."
They are still rescuing dogs from pounds. The adoption Process, however,
is slow. "Just look at them," says Friedman. "These dogs
don't want much. Amigo would be just as happy under a bridge with a bum
as being in a mansion eating caviar. All a dog needs is someone to love
it."
At the Utopia Animal Rescue Ranch they get plenty of attention. Parker
knows each of their names. The property is a play-ground. The dogs swim
in a stock pond. The only grief they get is from the duck who sneaks up
behind them and snaps at their tails.
This isn't a cause for us," says Friedman. "It's a way of life."
Parker has big plans. Some of the dogs could end up with an organization
that trains dogs to
help people with disabilities. She eventually wants to take in horses,
livestock and exotic animals. She's already found a friend, Adri Brown,
to accept cats.
It seems appropriate that Friedman's and Parker's dream of a rescue group
has come true in Utopia, a small town whose name reflects its identity.
It's peaceful here. People In cars greet you with a wave. "It's really
what America should be," says Parker.
And it's a place to find a dog that needs a home. Norma Kranz of nearby
Vanderpool was there the other day looking at dogs. Her three dogs had
died over the past six months.
"You know," she says, "the best way to get over losing
a dog is to get another one."