We made our first decision about Buddy tonight, we have decided to change his name to “Bud.”

In the final analysis, it was pretty simple. We needed and wanted a dog. Bud needs and presumably wants a good and loving home. I don’t know nearly as much about this dog as I usually know about the dogs I get.

When I look at  his photo, I see a  thoughtful, even mournful soul. He has quiet eyes.  Boston Terriers always look older than their years, and life has taught this dog a lot.

I am getting Bud from a very good rescue group called Friends Of Homeless Animals/Rhode Island.

I was prepared to bitch and moan about all the steps I had to take, but Carol Johnson talked to me and defanged me and listened to me and reasoned with me, and soon enough, I was purring like a kitten. They are well worth visiting if you are looking to rescue a dog.

I know Gus is very sick. I know he was terrified of men, and may still be. I know he is one year old and that he was not wanted or treated well, and was abandoned outdoors. I know I got him from a conscientious and wary group of dog lovers that had me jump through a number of hoops to get him.

As expected, the rescue group put me through a small-scale Inquisition.

I swallowed my pride, and put my big boy shoes on, and behaved. They have their reasons.

After all, I have nothing to hide. They asked me to list all of the dogs I have ever euthanized and I listed every single one and added: ” I will never permit any dog of mine to suffer great pain beyond reason so I can feel better.”

That was okay.

I gave them the four references, as requested, our vet and three other people, and by the end of the day, they had called every one of them and grilled me as to my canine character and sense of responsibility.  I am grateful that people said such nice things about me and my dogs.

I balked at their efforts to come check out the farmhouse, it seemed a bit Stalinist to me, I referred them to my books and my blog and said I would be happy to send them photos and videos. That seems to be working.

Carol from the rescue group called me this afternoon to tell me I had passed my tests with flying colors and they were finally very excited about my getting Bud, who will come in several months after his heartworm and other treatments are finished, and he is recovered and whole.  Looks like August or September.

The group will be responsible for bringing him up to the Northeast where I will be able to go pick him up with Maria. She is as excited as I am about Bud.

In a sense, Bud is Gus’s final gift to us, Gus opened our eyes to these wonderful dogs and paved the way. When I look at Bud’s photo, I am sure he will also make us smile, and he will spend many happy hours in Maria’s very warm and loving lap. Maybe mine also.

I have the name of his Arkansas vet – that is where he is – if I need to call. I don’t think I do need to call, I asked to be informed about his treatment.

Like Gus, Bud will be a dog, not a toy or furbaby.

I am uneasy with labels, on dogs or people – left or right, rescue or adopted or bought, big or small – the dogs don’t need them, they are just another way humans have of tagging and stereotyping things.

I have been so lucky in my choice of dogs – “rescued” dogs, bred dogs, shelter dogs  – I feel lucky about Bud, and I have no interested in labeling him further, despite his hard luck and rough treatment. He is not a rescue dog. He is not a purebred dog. He is not a shelter dog. He is not an abused dog. He is not a small dog.

He is a dog.

And he will be treated lovingly, humanely and sensitively. We will be loving him all day. And he will know that.

If the winter weather is too cold, he will stay inside or wear winter gear. If it is hot, he will not run around outside or get heated up too much. He will be given the chance to ride with us everywhere he goes, and if it’s warranted, I would love to teach him how to be a therapy dog.

I am not bothered by reports that he is sometimes terrified of men. So am I. They are quite often dangerous and scary, just look at the news.

We are both wussy men it seems, we will know and love one another. If I flipped Frieda, I can flip him.  This dog really needs a good home, and I love being needed, and I always need a good dog.

Red won’t care about Bud being here, or perhaps even notice. Fate will have a playmate back. A number of anxious readers have messaged me worrying about Flo and Minnie. They asked if I have considered them.

Not a lot. No Boston Terrier will take out Flo or Minnie, and if Bud chases them as Gus did – Boston Terriers are not biters or killers – he will have a bloody and sore nose to remember. Gus only tried it once.

We will introduce Bud to the pasture on a leash or in our arms until everyone is acclimated to the other. If he is terrified out there, he won’t go out there. Maybe he can ride a donkey like Gus did one day. We won’t push it.

If I can be permitted to make a point, it is an oft-repeated one for me. Get the dog you want, not the dog other people tell you to get. There are good and bad rescue groups, good and bad shelters, good and bad breeders. It is on us to be the stewards of our dogs and make the best choices for them, not for us.

So here we are.

We are very happy to be getting bud, I wish we could have done this with Robin Gibbons, but the Gods of the dog world, just like the Gods of our world, have their own ideas about who gets what and when.

Thanks for coming along, this passage is just getting underway. You will see a lot of Bud on this blog.