Posted on 24. Feb, 2011 by admin in Blog
Rufus
It was a terrible day. A Thursday. Our cat, Catcher, whom we had lived with since he was ten days old, was dying. As I sat with him, held him and loved him, I thought about his life and times we had shared over the last 16.5 years. I reflected not only upon the joy he and his sister, Pandora, who had died 2 years earlier from the same disease, had brought us, but upon the other cats who had shared my life over the last 36 years. Yes, I’m a confirmed cat person.
At about 5:10 in the evening, minutes after Carol, my wife, came home from work, he reached out to touch her, took his last two breaths and died. He had waited for her so that we could all be together in his last moments. We wrapped is sadly thin body in his favorite blanket, placed him in the car, ready to take his body to the vet. In a fit of anger at his dying, I gathered every toy, every cat bowl, litter box, cans and bags of food and threw them into the back of the car. We drove to the vet where we donated all the stuff and surrendered him, for the last time, into her care. On our drive back home Carol and I swore that Catcher was the last animal companion we’d ever have. The pain of losing them was too great and, at that moment, overwhelmed any of the joy they bring to you.
It has been three months since Catcher left us. Carol, over the last years has been an ardent visitor of dog rescue websites. Even as cat people, we loved dogs. In fact, we bought a home, in part, because it was across the street from a dog park. We thought we had the best of it; we could watch, and occasionally visit, other people’s dogs without the annoyance of walking them grooming them and having to make your plans around their needs. Cats are different. They demand so much less of you.
One afternoon, she emailed me from her work. One of the sites she visited on a regular basis, Bichons and Buddies, had this adorable fluff ball who was described as the perfect dog. I went on line and saw the bichon mix she mentioned. And saw another dog there as well. This dog had the most soulful eyes and doleful look I had seen since the dog who’s so worried about losing his bone on the Traveler’s Insurance commercial. That evening Carol and I talked about dogs and companion animals in general and decided that cute as they were, we didn’t want to take on the responsibility.
Over the next two weeks or so, I went on the Bichon and Buddies website with some regularity. Each time Rufus’ sad sack look captured me. I noticed that Bichons was having an event. Carol and I talked about going; but only to look, certainly not to adopt. I just wanted to meet that sad little doggie.
Saturday was rainy. The scheduled Bichon and Buddies event was cancelled as an outdoor one and moved to inside, at the Robertson Avenue home where many of their dogs are boarded. Carol and I showed up at about 1:30. Jeanine arrived about 5 minutes later. We told Leslie, Jeanine’s assistant, we had come to see Rufus and one other dog, I think his name was Winston. Several other people, a family of 4, a young couple were also waiting to meet some new friends. Suddenly there was a rush of white as 4 or 5 dogs came barreling out of the back into the visiting room. Leslie brought us Winston. I asked her if she had brought Rufus. too. “No,” she said. “Rufus wasn’t ready to come out.”
Carol and I took Winston, a lovely little Bichon mix, out for a stroll. He was a good, energetic dog, well-behaved and gentle. We went around the block a couple of times then sat on some stairs. He came and sat next to Carol. He was a great dog, for sure. We took him back to the mass of fur that was the visiting room and handed him back to Leslie. “Can we see Rufus?” I asked.
We waited for several minutes, watching the dogs and the people find one another. Then Leslie appeared with this beautiful dog who had the soulful look that, by this time, I recognized. He looked so sad. Leslie handed us the leash and we headed for the door. Rufus reluctantly followed. We barely got him outside. He didn’t want to take a walk. I picked him up, surprised at his heft, and carried him across the street to a little patch of grass. Carol and I sat next to him. Leslie was with us, concerned that Rufus wasn’t being cooperative and wasn’t showing well. Rufus sat down. And stayed that way. Carol and I looked at him, petted him, scratched him. He wasn’t indifferent, just, well, wary. Leslie picked Rufus up and carried him back to the visiting room. Carol and I sat on the floor. She put Rufus down to mingle with the other dogs. Rufus moved off as far away from the pack as possible and sat. Many of the other dogs jumped on us, gave us licks, played with us. Rufus sat. Perhaps ten minutes passed, and then, quite suddenly, there on my left, close by, sat Rufus. He came close and leaned on me. I scratched his soft ears. He walked over to Carol, who’s depth of caring and love in easily recognized by animals, and nuzzled her hand. Jeanine watched. Rufus was now unwilling to leave us, and that was fine. “You can foster him, you know, try him out. See if it works for you guys.” Jeanine said. Carol looked at me. “He needs us, Allen.”
Amazingly, Rufus walked to our car easily and just as easily jumped in. He’s a great car passenger. As we neared our house, Rufus surprised us by sitting up and getting a little excited, as if he knew he was coming home. He went from the parked car in the garage to our house as if he’d been there all his life. Our life with a dog had begun.
The next day we went to Centinela Pet to get Rufus food, a new harness and leash and a bed. Reluctantly, which was how Rufus approached any hint of a walk, he came into the store with us. He stopped at the door, sniffed, lifted his leg and peed. Carol didn’t know what to do. I laughed and assured her, given the state of the door post, that Rufus wasn’t the first dog to mark that particular spot. There was a display of dog beds about twenty feet from the door. Rufus went right for it, jumped into the one specifically designed for a small horse and settled down. He wasn’t going to move from that bed. Okay, we thought, he picked his bed, now let’s get him the one that best fits him. We had to lift him out of the bed to get him going. We found the aisle where the beds lived. I pulled out the medium sized one. He jumped in and again settled down. I went to another bed I thought he might like. Rufus roused himself, got out of his now-favorite bed, walked slowly over to the bed I’d laid out for him, lifted his leg and peed on it, strolled back to the bed he chose and jumped back in. Carol felt humiliated and didn’t know what to do. I, however, thought it was great. Rufus had just taught us our first lesson in communicating with him.
Rufus loves his bed. He also loves sleeping with us on our bed, often burrowing under the covers or pushing pillows aside so he could make himself a nest. Each day that passed Rufus seemed a little more comfortable and a little less depressed. I wrote Jeanine,
We have a lot to learn about dogs! Rufus has been coming out of his shell quickly. He loves sleeping on our bed; doesn’t want to get out of it in the morning. He doesn’t seem to like to take walks at all and eats and drinks very little. He loves a rawhide dog bone we bought for him and chewed the life out of it. Overall, he’s a good doggie but does so many non-doggie things, like not devouring his food or not wanting to play in the dog park. We’re a bit confused. Thirty six years of being with cats seems poor training for having a dog companion. We’ll keep you up to date on our progress.
Slowly, Rufus began to eat a little more. He continued to be averse to walks and only mildly happy about dog parks. He did clearly prefer, though, to be off leash. Once, when he saw me holding one, he began to shake. Carol thought that it clearly indicated that he was punished by being hit with a leash at some time in his past. I hid the leash in my pocket and made certain that it never dangled in a threatening way. He never exhibited that same fear again.
Carol wrote to Jeanine asking if we could either talk to Rufus’ former people or at least learn a little about his background, hoping that knowing more about him would help us better understand and care for him. Jeanine emailed back that his former owners didn’t want to have any contact with us. I emailed her back:
Thank you, Jeanine. As long as the questions are answered, no need to talk to him. I suspect anyone who’d give up a dog like Rufus just because of a divorce isn’t a very nice person anyway. Rufus continues to learn how to be more of a doggie. He went for a nice stroll last evening. He is still the laziest dog in the world, lol. He prefers to jump up onto the bed and lie down than anything else. We know it’ll take time for us to learn his habits and he to learn ours. Carol is a wonderful and patient person and is now taking him to work with her. I expect he’ll spend 3 – 4 times a week there with her and the rest of the time with me and the weekends with all of us together. There is still much for us to learn about the differences between having cat companions and a doggie companion. Will keep you posted as to his progress.
As it turned out, Rufus actually has come to spend pretty much all his time with me, at home. He loves it. And truth to tell, so do I. He sleeps most of the day, on the couch not 3 feet from where I work.
By the second week, we thought it was time to take Rufus to the vet for a checkup and to hopefully learn more about him. He had proven himself quite an exceptional doggie at our Thanksgiving dinner. He didn’t beg. He didn’t react badly to all the new people. He had fun with my older grandkids and didn’t growl at or try to eat our 2 year old granddaughter. Clearly he was quickly moving from being fostered to being adopted, though probably that was a certainty by the second day he spent with us. We asked Jeanine to recommend a vet. She actually made an appointment with one of the vets who works with Bichons & Buddies. It was a good visit, no fuss and we did indeed learn some new things about Rufus.
After the visit we emailed Jeanine.
Jeanine,
Had a nice visit with Dr. Housley today. She thought Rufus was in pretty good health but had a problem with his right rear leg. He badly needs a teeth cleaning, but she couldn’t find any broken tooth, so that was good news. She thought he was probably closer to 7 to 8 years old, rather than 4. She also, as did Carol, thought he was probably depressed and needed a little time to get his bearings. He had a very good day yesterday, Thanksgiving. He was great with all the people who came to visit, even with our 2 year old granddaughter, who wanted to spend every minute hugging him. He didn’t beg, but surely wanted as much turkey as people were willing to give him. We kept the feeding to a very small minimum since he has to lose 4 pounds. He continues to seem less unhappy every day. He now greets us both with vigorous tail wagging and doggie kisses. He plays a little bit. He loves being on our bed, hiding his head under the covers. Rufus still doesn’t love walks and only reluctantly goes out to the dog park. To our great relief, no doggie accidents, either. I posted Rufus’ picture on my Facebook page. He was a hit with my friends. We’re hanging in with him and intend to work as hard as we can to get him out of his depression and make him as happy as he can be. He’s a very sweet dog.
Thanksgiving proved an important moment for us. The way he behaved with the people who visited, the way he changed every day, to a happier, less depressed dog, the way we, Carol and I, we’re learning more about him and liking everything we discovered, made the decision easy. I emailed Jeanine the next day.
Jeanine, I noticed that Rufus is still on the website. You can safely take him off. I do believe he has a permanent home here. He grows on us more each day. And I believe the feeling is mutual. He’s no longer being fostered. Consider him adopted. I promise you, we won’t give up on Rufus. He’ll be here for as long as he wants. Carol and I won’t let him go back into a shelter environment, even one as kind as yours. He deserves as good a life as we can give him.
It’s hard to believe. Rufus has been with us nearly a month now. I introduced Rufus to our neighbors and their children last week. As he is wherever he goes, Rufus was a big hit. He took a special liking to a three year old girl, Ingy, who happens to be my favorite little neighbor, and kept moving over to stand closer to her. All the kids loved him, petted him, gave him treats. He was gentle, sweet uncomplaining and a great doggie citizen. As his personality comes out, as result of his depression lifting, Rufus has revealed himself as something of a clown. He loves to burrow in pillows and dive under the covers and act silly with his toys. He’s especially fond of soft and squeaky ones. He’s making friends at the dog park more easily. He made a two new friends today, a rescue Bichon, Simon, that so much looks like he that it’s like watching a dog play with his own image in a mirror and a little pup, with whom he actually ran around and did a play bow. He greets us with wagging tale and smiles when we come home. He loves to see Carol arrive at night. His tail is now constantly resting happily on his back, not down between his legs. Both he and I are learning the best ways to communicate with one another. I’ve been leaving the front door open and allowing him his choice about when he needs to visit the park. It’s works well. He goes to the gate and waits for me, I clip him into his new harness and he happily walks beside me. Tonight he was bothered by a bigger dog. Instead of cowering, he ran to me, sat down beside me and told me to protect him. He got his new tag over the weekend, proclaiming that he is our companion and loudly announcing his name. I think he appreciated the gesture.
As with all encounters, especially those with animals, I’m learning. Rufus has reminded me of a strong and important lesson: put expectations aside and accept and appreciate what’s given to you. Rufus was not the dog I pictured when I fantasized about having one. He’s not the standard Poodle I always saw sitting next to me while I drove around in my little sports car, his head sticking up proudly, ears blowing in the wind. He’s not the energetic, ball-chasing buddy I thought dogs were supposed to be. No. He’s Rufus, a gentle, loving soul who needed us as much as we needed him to take away some of the pain from losing Catcher and Pandora. He’s his own dog and he’s a delight. He’s better than my fantasy dog because he is our dog. And though I’m still a cat person in my heart, Rufus has burrowed into it, found room beside those felines. Welcome home, Rufus. We love you.
Tags: bichon rescue, pet adoption, rufus
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