His life's gone to the dogs

by Jacquielynn Floyd

"The Dallas Morning News", Tuesday, July 30, 2002, pp. 15-16A

Ennis - From time to time, somebody golfing or power-lunching or sipping a perfect martini in the hushed and moneyed splendor of a private club probably wonders whatever happened to Wally Swanson.

Mr. Swanson was a founding partner of what was once Dallas' biggest law firm. He headed an investor group that, for a time, owned the legendary Highland Park cafeterias. He lived in an elegant Park Cities house, owned the Uptown office building where his real estate firm had its headquarters and was mentioned now and then in society columns.

In a city where business success punches your ticket to prominence, he was traveling first class.

His life was changed, he will admit when pressed, by a friendship, the kind that comes along once in a lifetime. Wolfgang was Wally Swanson's best pal, chief admirer and constant companion. They were inseparable until four years ago, when Wolfgang, a purebred German shepherd of keen intellect and uncanny devotion, died suddenly of a malignant heart tumor.

"For the first time in my life, I experienced emotional disability," said Mr. Swanson, 60. His conversation is precise and erudite, his voice a scholarly rumbling baritone. "In part, what I do here is in Wolfgang's memory."

What Mr. Swanson does is operate a nonprofit rescue shelter -- a combination infirmary, orphanage and adoption agency for homeless and abandoned German shepherds. When I visited last wee, Camp Wolfgang was completely full up with 40 dogs so beautiful and personable that I wondered for about the millionth time why people don't take better care of their animals.

Every dog has a name and a hard-luck story. Tucker was dumped on the doorstep of a Dallas vet. Lucas was found by the road when he was just a puppy. Joe was found sick and skinny and mauled nearly to death by a bigger dog.

Zesta was tearfully surrendered by a woman who said hr abusive husband had threatened to punish her by shooting her dog. But Zesta was lucky: She was adopted by a family in Grand Saline who took her home last weekend.

Mr. Swanson has driven as far as Tulsa to rescue an abandoned dog, but most of his referrals are from Dallas-area shelters and humane societies, which call him when they get German shepherds.

"I used to think only the incorrigible street dog ends up in the shelters, but nothing could be further from the truth," he said.

Shelters, he said, are full of friendly, well-socialized dogs of all breeds, inexplicably dumped by people who seem to regard a pet as disposable as an old tire.

Camp Wolfgang is an awfully long way from Highland Park in more ways than one. Mr. Swanson lives in a serviceable but Spartan brick ranch house with a sheet metal carport.

He plans to build a house one of these days, but so far, all the construction efforts have been for the dogs -- shaded blocks of kennels cooled by electric fans. Volunteers are helping build a new dog run.

The only full-time employee is Christina Mendoza, who lives down the road. She comes over every day and plays with the dogs, gives them the human attention they need to stay friendly and adoptable. She helps shift some of the burden off of Mr. Swanson, who still runs his own real estate business, in addition to operating Camp Wolfgang.

"The dogs like me a lot," Christine said. "But when Mr. Swanson comes around, they forget all about me. They really love him."

Mr. Swanson's daughter, Kristi, helps out, too. The night before I visited, she drove from Denton to Dallas to Ennis and back to pick up and deliver two rescued shepherd pups.

"I grew up with dogs. We always had them around," said Kristi, a professional violist and regular volunteer at Dallas animal shelters. "My dad has always loved them."

Mr. Swanson is careful about who adopts dogs from Camp Wolfgang. Most of the referrals are word of mouth. But good homes are in constant demand, so there's also a new Web site, www.campwolfgang.org, showing available dogs.

Among future projects, Mr. Swanson hopes to add kennel space for at least four ex-milita5y dogs, German shepherds that are being retired from U.S. armed service duty. Texas' own Lackland Air Force Base has hundreds, and the animals will need specialized placements, he said.

"I'm hoping to find ex-dog handlers from the Army or Marines who will come and interact with them when they're here," he said.

While Mr. Swanson was inside fetching us cold drinks, I nosily asked Kristi what she thinks of her dad.

She acknowledged that, as a child, she didn't want for much. Mr. Swanson was a leader, a professional success, a hard charger who was near the top of the heap in Dallas' demanding business community.

He has accomplished so much, she said.

"But of all the things he's done, I'm proudest of this.