When Carol Johnson first saw Bud, he was splayed and shivering on the floor of the vet’s examining room, shaking and quivering and refusing to get up. He was dirty and hungry and thin. He was terrified of any male around him.
That was several months ago. Today, says Carol, an admitted softie, Bud wrestles with other dogs in her bed, seeks out belly and ear scratching, steals bags of chips and cookies if he can. (In other words, he’s a Boston Terrier).
I told Carol I suspected she was spoiling the dog rotten, and she said she absolutely was, she said once you see the dogs she rescues in their original condition (she fosters sick and homeless dogs for the (Friends Of Homeless Animals Rescue Group), you want to shower them with love and attention.
(The FOHA seeks out the lost of the lost, they are the ones vets call when dog owners want to euthanize their dogs and the vets don’t want to. I support their work.)
I am getting Bud from the FOHA, I remember the first photo I saw of him. Grim.
When I first spoke to Carol – now a good friend – about Bud, she warned me that he was terrified of many things, especially men, and didn’t play or seek attention. He was too timid to misbehave.
Now he plays continuously, loves attention, and has no problems with men.
This, I think, is what life with Carol can do for dogs. Each night, at 4 a.m., Bud and his buddies wrestle on her bed. Carol says she just pulls the covers up and hides. I told her he will get a different response if he tries that her. She laughed.
She cautions that Bud does like to chase cats, and I smiled. Flo can’t wait to teach another new dog some matters, even the wild-eyed Fate gives her a wide birth (she chased her once and paid for it) and Gus also chased her once, and not again. Minnie just loves every creature to death, they always come to love her.
More and more Bud does remind of Gus, who was a classic Boston Terrier – he thought he was a dinosaur, was fearless, loving, was the King Of The Realm, slept and dozed where he wished, and stole every toy in the house, and strutted around like he owned the place.
I am eager to resume my writing and study of the Small Dog Experience, now the dominant dog experience in America. I wish to be nothing if not current.
The thing about Boston Terriers is that they have no idea how small they are, and could care less. Every dog is different, and I am not seeking or expecting another Gus. But I’m happy to hear that Carol’s loving and tolerant household has brought Bud back to life.
We hope to continue the journey here. Two weeks to go, on Saturday September 29, a couple of weeks ahead of our Open House. Bud is being shipped to Brattleboro, Vt. on a special dog transit and we will pick him up there. He’s coming up with Midge, a once starved Chihuahua adopted from the blog.
We’ll bring a crate and maybe a lap, if he wishes and fits. This will come upon us in a blink, we kept all of Bud’s things, so we don’t need a new crate or toys. He’s going to continue to eat Science Diet adult food, at least for now, and has a vet appointment two days after he arrives.
Bud is recovering from heartworm, and can’t be finally released until his last blood test on Sept. 28. Fingers crossed.
