I came across Buddy on a dog rescue site  this morning. He’s coming here to Bedlam Farm later this summer, if he survives some health crises. He is a brown, pure-bred Boston Terrier.

He is being treated for heartworm in Arkansas, and is ill. He is expected to recover.

When rescued from his home – he was not wanted, and abandoned – he was filthy, neglected and sick. Someone got him from a backyard breeder, then decided he didn’t want  him, and left him out in the heat and cold.

He is a one-year-old male, he loves other dogs and he loves to play. He is fearful of men, Carol, his rescue person warned me. “That just makes him smart,” I said.  I thought of Frieda, who hated all men, and am confident I can help Buddy work through it.

He is only a year old, but he looks like an old soul to me.

I called the phone number listed on the rescue site when I first saw him, and  I read about his very sad story and I gulped down my pride, and went on the rescue group site and did all of the things I resent doing – filling out an endless, intrusive and annoying form that took forever and was largely pointless.

This dog needs a loving home, and that feels good to be able to do.

I called Maria and showed her the photo and asked her what she thought.

We’ve both rescued dogs and other animals before – Orson, Frieda, Izzy,  Simon, the chickens and barn cats, and it’s time for us to do it again. It just felt right. We were disappointed to hear that Hannah isn’t pregnant, but disappointment, like prolonged grieving, is not something I wish to spend a lot of time on.

I got on the phone.

As I have often written, the best way to get a dog is to get the you want, not the dog obnoxious people tell you that you should want, the dog  that touches your heart in one way or another. There is never only one way to get a dog. And the best way for me to grieve the death of a dog is to love another one, as soon as is healthy.

Buddy touched my heart. I had just gotten off the phone with a very high-style Boston Terrier breeder who wanted nearly $3,000 for her puppies. I didn’t like her much. I felt it was time to rescue again.

Neither of us had any doubts about Buddy.”I want to do it,” I said. “Let’s do it,” she said. We just learned from Robin Gibbons. Maria is very excited about rescuing a dog, as I knew she would be.

I want to have Buddy here, I want to take care of him, and help him heal, should he survive the risky heartworm procedure now underway. I want to write about him. He has a fine back story, always good for a writer.

I want to continue the Small Dog experiment, and share the excitement of giving a good dog a good home, and training him through his difficulties. I want to bone up on my training.

Carol cautioned me that Buddy likes to chase cats, we’ll work on that, and he’ll be sorry if he  tries to do that to Flo.

I sent a $200 adoption fee just before I wrote this.

If my many references are approved, then we will get him later this summer, once he is over his heartworm treatment andother medical issues. He will be shipped to Rhode Island where the rescue group is headquartered. I was born in Providence, we’ll go there to get him.

I will not say Buddy was abused, the term is just overused beyond meaning, but he has had a hard time. He will require some patience and training and lots of love (and beef jerky.)

Carol and I bonded pretty quickly, she explained why the rescue groups take so many precautions, she said I would be surprised at how often people try to rescue dogs but refuse to tell the truth about themselves, or end up rejecting the dog or  returning them.

I conceded that I needed to be more aware of that side of things, and less impatient. In any case, we became good pals, I am thrilled to be getting Buddy, she is happy that I am. So is Maria.

So another gift from Gus, who opened our eyes to small dogs, and whose memory is still fresh in our minds. In  his honor, we will give Buddy the best home we can offer. That is, if all my references check out.

There are few things more wonderful than getting a new dog. We are counting the days.