I won’t soon forget how sick and frightened and traumatized he was. He was frail, skeletal, and shivering whenever we came near him. If I so much as looked at him, he ran and hid.

I call him Second Chance Bud now; he is as happy and busy and healthy as any dog I’ve ever had, and that is saying something.

Carol Johnson, a dog rescuer in Arkansas, did a fantastic job getting him away from the hands of his very cruel abuser, who left him outside in pen without shelter for two years.

He was emaciated and had heartworm when he rescue group bought him for $150, and it took three or four months and $1,000 to get him healthy enough to travel. Carol fostered him through this challenging process.

But he was a sad wreck when he came here. He is pretty full of himself today.

We put him on exceptional food, gave him his comfortable crate for safety, and began a year of soft training.

This morning, I heard him barking and went out to the little jungle behind Maria’s studio, which Bud has claimed is his domain, as it is populated with moles, squirrels, chipmunks, snakes, and rabbits.

Boston Terriers are famed hunters, specially bred for going after rats and mice.

Bud has become a hunter; although he rarely catches anything, he never tires of sitting out there, waiting and watching. He got lucky with one mole and one chipmunk that I know of.

Inside the house, he is a cuddly bear, never happier than when sitting in my lap or Maria’s lap getting his belly rubbed.

I also call him the Little King, and the Little King has finally found his kingdom, right where a big chunk of the maple tree fell a couple of months ago. It is the perfect place for him.

Now he has a throne upon which to stand to survey his kingdom and look for game.

I will never tire of seeing him so happy, and we are delighted to have him with us. The three amigos are quite a crew.