I had a hectic day, writing, taking pictures, shopping, cooking,  and searching for flowers,  looking to replace some of the ones in my garden beds that are fading; I’m determined to have beautiful flowers until the first frost.

This afternoon, it got very hot and humid again; I lay down to rest for a few minutes. When I woke up, there was Bud on the footstool, his head resting on my foot.

I kept thinking about how far Bud had come. When he first came here, he was terrified at the sight of any man, including me. He would tremble and shake when I came near him.

Training him was a nightmare, a lesson in patience and trust.

Now, whenever I sit in the chair or nap, he is huddled up against my legs or resting his head on my hand or arm (or foot.)

It is a joy to see him so safe and comfortable here, one of the most rewarding things in my experience with dogs.

His first year here was very difficult for us – hiding, marking, running, shaking at any command. He went after chickens, chipmunks, and even Amish horses.

He’s still a fierce warrior outside, guarding the house and the farm from all intruders.

But inside, he is a sweetheart, full of trust and love. We are happy to have and lucky to have him.

What happened to him in Arkansas was a horror story I don’t care to repeat.

He had every reason to be hateful and difficult; he is one of the most affectionate and trusting dogs I’ve ever known. His generous and loving self has emerged. That is the real Bud.

He is a survivor; we love him very much. He returns the favor.