Nine years ago you entered our home, our condo to be precise. This was the pre-kids era…back when we had relatively quiet Friday nights with no shrieking girls serenading us on the karaoke machine. Back when I still slept in on Saturdays and leisurely read the newspaper on Sundays.
You’ve brought so much into our house, and not just a multitude of luxurious red dog hair. I might add that you are quite handsome after all these years with nary a gray whisker and you’re very humble. If a dog could were capable of blushing, it would be you.
I’ll never forget our first encounter. The hubby brought you home and I must admit I wasn’t that happy about it AT ALL. We were moving the next day from our condo to our house, surrounded by boxes and on a timetable for the moving truck to arrive Thanksgiving morning. This was no time to bring in a stray dog. The timing couldn’t possibly be worse. We already had Bailey, who at that time was young and neurotic and who today has developed into full-on senile little old lady dog with enough emotional baggage to sink the Titanic. How you defer to her on a daily basis without chomping her directly on the behind is beyond me.
But you entered our lives under the most unusual and unfortunate of circumstances. Daddy found you on Thanksgiving Eve in a ditch on the side of the highway, hurt and abandoned. He parked his truck and tried knocking on doors in the area to find your owner but no one knew anything about you. He took a gamble on you when he picked you up and carried you to his truck, knowing full well you might bite him, but you turned your head away from him and yelped in excruciating pain. He carried you gently to the bed of his truck and drove you to the vet. They were not optimistic. They gave you a shot of cortisone and sent the hubby on his way. They told him you might not make it through the night.
But here you are nine years later.
I knew you were a gem of a beast the morning after we found you and I saw you struggle to get up and walk toward the front door and for a split second I thought you might be hungry or thirsty, although we’d placed a small bowl of food and water by you on the floor. And then you and I had a moment. I looked at you and you looked me squarely in the eyes and I knew what you were telling me. You had to pee. You limped to the kitchen floor so you wouldn’t pee on our carpet and I grabbed a paper cup and held it over your doggie privates so you could pee in a cup.
I knew then we had to keep you. I’d only do something like that for you and maybe the hubby. I don’t even know if I’ll do that for him some day but that’s why they make Depends for humans.
You are a kind and gentle soul. You have the spirit of a saint. Most humans could learn much from you and your sweet nature. We are lucky to have you in our home. I need to remind myself of that every day when I Swiffer up tumbleweeds of red dog hair.
Happy Belated Birthday JR Billy Bubba, Mr. Dumb Happy…we love you more than steaks and chewies and back yard squirrels.