8 years ago, I went to this place that sounded like they would have wonderful puppies. Turns out, it was a BYB who also took in accident pups. She had a pen with a single large dog house, and everything from Labs, Danes, Beagles, Poodles in there. I found this little black pup, tiny thing, under the dog house. Bloated belly and dandruff. The lady said "I didn't even know I had any of those left".
Really? I'm taking this one. This is no good. A little male Boston Terrier/Beagle mix. Solid black with a dash of white on his chest, short square nose, very cute and pathetic. Took him straight to the vet and got him sorted out. He was just SO good from the start. Potty trained fast, learned fast.
Seemed lonely though. I bought him a companion, a JRT/Beagle. Awful pup. Worse dog I ever met. Crate escape was his favorite past time. Chewed through walls if you kept him gated off into a room. Chewed up everything. I took up jogging with him to no avail. Hours and hours of fetch, even shortened my work day from 8 to 6 hours. Finally did a split shift, 4 and 4, didn't help. After losing my couch, cedar chest, and countless other things after another escape, I had enough. I asked if anyone wanted him. They had all heard my horror stories though.
Poor little Boston, always sweet, quiet, and calm. I thought maybe he had a part in it all. I put them both in the car and drove to the pound. I was totally over dogs by this point. Winston the terror was SO excited. Boston looked pathetic as always. I get to the pound parking lot and sit and look at both of them. Boston gave me this look... like "You wouldn't, would you?"... I couldn't. I left him in the car and took Winston in. He was SO happy to be there. Hopped right into the transfer cage and said hi to the lady at the desk. A friend of mine volunteered down there, he was adopted and returned some 5 times. I wasn't the only one who couldn't manage him I guess.
Took Boston home, and he acted SO relieved. Peaceful house again with a wonderful little dog. We moved several times, and at one point I hatched some ducklings and he let them sleep on him. Got some rabbits, he would lay in the sun and let them hop all around him and play. He never needed a leash, he was the best little gentleman ever.
My husband joined the Army and we got orders to Germany. I had to find homes for everything. The parrot and little Boston were SO hard, but the Army had misinformed me on animal transport overseas. I could have taken both of them with me. But my inlaws took my little dog, and kept him for me. I was supposed to get him back when we moved back. They wouldn't release him. I understood, he was a great dog.
So we visited when we could, and he was always SO happy to see me. We finally moved back to the area and I got to see him more. We would dog sit and have a blast, he got along great with my new dogs.
But then he formed lumps under his neck. They grew fast. Came out of no where. 3 weeks ago he had a biopsy, it was lymphoma. My dad's shepherd had that, even with steroids and chemo she only got another 9 months. A week ago, he stopped eating, spiked a fever. Listless. Sad. Awful. Pathetic.
We brought him over here so that he wouldn't be alone on his last day while the inlaws were at work. He walked out and visited the new ducks with me. Slow, tired, old man steps. We cuddled on the couch mostly. That night, he went to the vet to get the forever sleep. He needed it. He wasn't anything what he used to be. Not eating or drinking anything. Nothing within our budget could help him.
Rest in peace little old man.
I've lost family dogs before, but losing one I raised myself, totally worse. Even though I spent 5 years away from him, that didn't make it easier. I loved that little dog so much!
Really? I'm taking this one. This is no good. A little male Boston Terrier/Beagle mix. Solid black with a dash of white on his chest, short square nose, very cute and pathetic. Took him straight to the vet and got him sorted out. He was just SO good from the start. Potty trained fast, learned fast.
Seemed lonely though. I bought him a companion, a JRT/Beagle. Awful pup. Worse dog I ever met. Crate escape was his favorite past time. Chewed through walls if you kept him gated off into a room. Chewed up everything. I took up jogging with him to no avail. Hours and hours of fetch, even shortened my work day from 8 to 6 hours. Finally did a split shift, 4 and 4, didn't help. After losing my couch, cedar chest, and countless other things after another escape, I had enough. I asked if anyone wanted him. They had all heard my horror stories though.
Poor little Boston, always sweet, quiet, and calm. I thought maybe he had a part in it all. I put them both in the car and drove to the pound. I was totally over dogs by this point. Winston the terror was SO excited. Boston looked pathetic as always. I get to the pound parking lot and sit and look at both of them. Boston gave me this look... like "You wouldn't, would you?"... I couldn't. I left him in the car and took Winston in. He was SO happy to be there. Hopped right into the transfer cage and said hi to the lady at the desk. A friend of mine volunteered down there, he was adopted and returned some 5 times. I wasn't the only one who couldn't manage him I guess.
Took Boston home, and he acted SO relieved. Peaceful house again with a wonderful little dog. We moved several times, and at one point I hatched some ducklings and he let them sleep on him. Got some rabbits, he would lay in the sun and let them hop all around him and play. He never needed a leash, he was the best little gentleman ever.
My husband joined the Army and we got orders to Germany. I had to find homes for everything. The parrot and little Boston were SO hard, but the Army had misinformed me on animal transport overseas. I could have taken both of them with me. But my inlaws took my little dog, and kept him for me. I was supposed to get him back when we moved back. They wouldn't release him. I understood, he was a great dog.
So we visited when we could, and he was always SO happy to see me. We finally moved back to the area and I got to see him more. We would dog sit and have a blast, he got along great with my new dogs.
But then he formed lumps under his neck. They grew fast. Came out of no where. 3 weeks ago he had a biopsy, it was lymphoma. My dad's shepherd had that, even with steroids and chemo she only got another 9 months. A week ago, he stopped eating, spiked a fever. Listless. Sad. Awful. Pathetic.
We brought him over here so that he wouldn't be alone on his last day while the inlaws were at work. He walked out and visited the new ducks with me. Slow, tired, old man steps. We cuddled on the couch mostly. That night, he went to the vet to get the forever sleep. He needed it. He wasn't anything what he used to be. Not eating or drinking anything. Nothing within our budget could help him.
Rest in peace little old man.
I've lost family dogs before, but losing one I raised myself, totally worse. Even though I spent 5 years away from him, that didn't make it easier. I loved that little dog so much!
