Things Rufus has eaten

Numerous shoes
DVD remote control
Plush toys
"Indestructable" compressed rawhide chews (took less than an hour)
Wooden chair made by Tim's father
Wooden TV stand
Three bras
One pillowcase
Innumerable cardboard soda can boxes
The mail
Nearly new green shirt
(10/01) Plushie
Misc. cords (Amelia probably helped a lot with these)
kitchen sponge
Copy of Games magazine (found in shreds all over the backyard)
(10/6) Grey flannel pillowcase (which Tim turned into a braided tug toy)
Few dozen socks
(10/13) A silk/sequined bag and the vintage costume jewelry inside it (his turds must look FABULOUS!)
(10/15- busy day!) 5 of Sophie's tops, a mystery cord, two socks
(10/27) Sophie's pillow. Photo below:

(11/02) Sophie's pink woolen hoodie
(11/03) Sophie's grey hoodie shirt
Playstation controllers, as well as some games and CD cases
More books and an art print
Comforter
HUGE dog bed, brand new (He managed to unzip it, so at least the shell of it is intact.)
Another Games magazine

And that's just the stuff we know about. I'll add more as it is remembered or destroyed.

.

Sibling Rivalry

Well, its about a week into this new pack formation and it's not going as smoothly as it did with Buster. Emmy's very protective of the resources: food, toys and affection, so she's been doing a fare share of menacing Rufus. He's a pretty good-natured fellow but he's having a hard time dealing with not getting his toys when he wants them and having to wait to eat until she's done. The weird thing is, we've tried separating them at mealtime and Rufus doesn't like that. He seems quite upset if we close a door between them, whether he's on the inside or she is. So, for now we'll just put out plenty of food and hope that once she's had her fill, she'll leave him alone to eat and that he'll stop moping and start eating.

As for the attention-whoring, she actually bolted over Tim who was laying on the futon between the dogs, petting them both. While we know we can't influence their pack order, we CAN demand good behavior. It's just trying to enforce manners and civility while allowing them to work things out on their own that's so stressful. It's also hard on us seeing Rufus bullied. He's smart, though, and it seems that about half the time he's baiting her to get her to chase him.

It's only been a week. Too early to be too concerned I think. She's just going to need a lot of training to learn how to live indoors with a pack that pays attention to her. It appears she may have been an outside dog, because she's peeing in the house, even next to the food bin (which is fortunately a plastic tub, so no contamination.) She's also peed in the hallway outside the bathroom. For now we've set up baby gates to keep her confined to the livingroom.

Rufus seems mopey sometimes. But he seemed mopey before we brought her home. I think we'll just have to wait and keep loving them both and trying to be good role models. I just don't want to lose the happy, confident boy that our Rufus has become.

.

Lonely Dog

Over the past few weeks, Rufus has slowly become more and more destructive: a sure sign of boredom and frustration. I've personally lost my only black bra, two pairs of shoes (almost a third pair but I rescued them after losing only part of the heel,) a halter top, many empty soda boxes, pillowcases, a cat bed, a wooden chair, a tv tray, stuffed animals, and who knows what else we simply haven't found the remains of yet. He has also become very recalcitrant on his walks and we've had to cut short our last couple of forays and head back home after Rufus got too unruly and wild. At home, he'd get into everything, bully the cats, nip at us and run out back and bark in order to get us to go outside and see what was up, whereupon he'd try and start a game of chase-me chase-you. We were losing patience and sanity. Obviously there was only one solution.

We got another dog.

Her name is Amelia, but "Emmy" for short, and she's probably got some pit bull or mastiff or both in her. You may notice she looks a bit like Buster, but that's not the reason we chose her. She simply charmed us and had such a good, sweet, playful temperament that we were pretty sure she could keep up with Rufus without being bullied or being a bully to him. If you follow our "Shelter Diaries," you'll have already read about her and her pal Royce. Unfortunately, Royce is still at the shelter and on the urgent list. We'd have taken them both if not for the fact that we've got too many animals as it is.

Rufus is very happy with his new sister and hopefully, she'll be a good influence on him. We'll post photos and video later. In the meantime, here are a couple from her time at the shelter.

It's our first night together and I'm looking forward to seeing her become used to her new home and her new pack. Welcome, Amelia! We love you!

.

Shower time

When Rufus was small enough to fit in the kitchen sink, that was where he got his baths. As he grew too big for that, I began simply taking him into the shower with me. It was never his favorite thing, and although he is always very good and patient, he is very happy to get out of there, shake water everywhere, and roll around on the carpet like a maniac.

He's caught on to the fact that, when it's shower time, I wait for him to follow me into the bathroom (which he always does, no matter what I'm up to) and then I close the door so he can't escape. Nowadays, he stops halfway into the bathroom until he knows it's safe to proceed. Thus, after a long muddy romp in the backyard, I had to trick him into coming all the way into the bathroom while still being able to close the door behind him. Not hard, just had to put something interesting on the lid of the toilet so he came over to investigate. Ha! He was trapped. As I started forward to take his collar off, he backed up, but then stopped and with a look of resignation, waited for me to remove it.

Now, at this point, what I have always had to do was lift him into the tub. He's about 50 lbs. of muscle and long, long legs, so it's not easy to do. After turning on the shower and setting it to a dog-friendly temperature, I decided to see if he'd get in on his own. I didn't think for a minute that he would, but it was a good stalling tactic while I braced myself to hoist him over the edge of the tub.

I looked at Rufus, then at the tub and said, "Get in."

And he DID!

He still doesn't enjoy taking a shower and he still can't wait to get out and roll around on the floors, attack the towels, etc, but it was so very heartening to see him willing to do something he didn't want to when there was no treat involved other than pleasing his "mom." He stood there so good under the water while I washed him, and waited for me to get clean too (he jumped on me with his muddy feet.)

I am very proud of my funny little dog. He still has a long way to go before he's no longer a bratty teenager, but this was a really awesome step in that direction.

.

STICK!!!!

This is just about* the most awesomest stick in the whole world. It is the Excalibur of sticks. With it, Rufus can rule the world. He just can't make it back in through the dog door.

Almost as awesome as The Stick is his new toy, the Squido. It is a squeaky egg, wrapped in canvas, with flappy bits hanging off the back. What's not to love? If only it dispensed bacon...

*With the possible exception of that huge bundle of branches we passed by on our walk tonight. Rufus tried to drag one off but they were all in a big pile and easily weighed 15 times what the Wooferdog weighs. But he was pretty sure he could do it, if only those annoying parents would let him try.

Farewell, Buster

There's not really anything that I could say that Sophie didn't say better in her post. I'll try anyway.

Buster and I were fast friends within an hour of him arriving at the shelter. As the days went by, I knew more and more that this dog was too good, too right to let go. If dogs are mirrors of the people they associate with, Buster reflected all of the qualities that I hold dear, and obscured the ones that shame me. He was patient, gentle, dignified, and so very affectionate and eager to be a part of a real pack, a real family. And as one by one I watched a dozen fantastic dogs fall to apathy and overcrowding, I realized that I couldn't let Buster go out that way.

It was a hard decision, especially since we weren't sure that we were ready for a second dog. Even if we were able to make it work, how would Rufus react? The onset of adolescence is difficult enough without throwing another pack member into the mix.

Predictably, the first few days were a constant struggle as the dogs haggled over status. But even through a bout of kennel cough (which Rufus had shaken off about a week before), Buster kept pace with the younger dog and lent his calm, cleverness and stability to Rufus's enthusiasm and limitless energy. It was pretty much the perfect team.

Buster worked hard to be a good member of our pack. Every so often, he'd make a patrol of the house, peeking in on everyone to say "hello" and make sure everything was well. Then he'd stretch out on the futon, or run around our backyard with Rufus in search of the perfect mud puddle to decorate our house with. He would wait patiently for food, tirelessly work on commands, and dutifully sit at the edge of our hallway in anticipation of our evening walk.

He seemed to love that walk more than anything in the world; more than a game of tag with Rufus, more than a tug-of-war with me, more than lounging on the futon with Sophie. Buster missed one walk with me, the day he was neutered. After that, he always insisted on coming along. We tried to leave him behind his last night with us - his seizures were escalating and his balance was uncertain. Staggering to his feet, he plodded to the hallway with fierce determination and refused to let us leave without him.

And the next day, he was gone forever.

There were so many memories we were supposed to have together. So many adventures to recall fondly and challenges we stood bravely together through. But viruses have no use for sentimentality or nostalgia. It took Buster from us, fairly destroying him in less than a day and a half. It took away our ability to work with other dogs for the forseeable future. And we must wait almost three long, worrisome months to see if Rufus (who was thankfully vaccinated) managed to keep from falling victim to it.
.

Eulogy for Buster

(Written on 8/13 by Sophie)

Buster was the perfect dog. He wasn’t some exotic pedigree or AKC-worthy purebred. He didn’t know any tricks or excel at any doggie duties. He wasn’t even a particularly good watch-dog. What he was, however, was gentle, dignified, loving, patient and so eager to please. He endured the juvenile machismo of our other dog, Rufus, yet found his position in our little pack without problem. He never disobeyed when he could figure out what we wanted him to do. He learned “sit” and had almost figured out “lie down.” When it was time for a walk, he waited for his leash and then patiently sat at the edge of the entryway with Rufus for us to say “Okay, let’s go.” The night before he died, we were going to leave him to rest while we took Rufus for a walk, but little Buster clambered shakily off of the futon and wobbled over to us, as if to say “Hey, I’m still part of this family. I’m supposed to go with you.” We took him down the block just a bit until he flopped down in a yard. Then we walked him slowly home.

He was a part of our family from the moment we let him into the backyard to meet Rufus. Rufus is happy all the day long, so rather than treat this new dog like an intruder, he sprang about playfully, trying to determine the parameters of our new dynamic. Buster was at first quite all right with letting Rufus be “top dog.” But Rufus, having so little doggie-sense, wouldn’t let it go. So Buster, over the course of the next few days, put the little brat in line and enjoyed a little more respect, (off and on.)

One thing Buster liked was to wade around in our little plastic kiddie pool. Rufus uses it as a glorified water dish, but Buster would climb right in and slosh around. After a particularly hard rain, I poured the water out into the yard so I could refill it with clean water. Oh boy. The mud puddle was epic and both dogs ran around in it like lunatics, and then chased each other through the house, leaving a trail of mud across the livingroom, onto the futon/couch, and all over both bathroom floors. It was impossible to be upset about it: they were having so much fun.

When we took Buster to get neutered, the vet noted he had an upper resperatory infection and gave us some medicines to give him. Three different pills, twice a day. Well, Buster was one of those dogs that could eat peanut butter from around a pill and spit it back out. We tried just shoving the pills into the back of his mouth but his jaws were so strong. And he had no appetite so it was hard getting him to eat. The first couple of days, we just pulverized the pills and slipped the powder into Yokult (Google it) and squirted it into his mouth. Once his appetite kicked in—and did it ever—he gulped all three pills down inside meatballs made of canned dog food. When the wet dog food ran out, peanut butter and then hot dogs did the trick. (And then we bought more wet food!)

He never finished off his prescription. Never even finished off that last can of dog food. Never even got his stitches taken out. He blew into our lives and we were making plans for years and years of belonging to each other, but he was sicker than we realized.

Yesterday morning I noticed the muscles in his head and neck twitching continuously. We had no idea what it was and so later that day we asked Doc. She said it sounded like distemper. We weren’t sure if that was a death sentence or not, so I planned to go online and find out what I could about it. As proof of an indifferent universe, the power supply to our connector box was fried and we could not find a replacement anywhere. Our provider promised to send one within a couple of days. So we were left to call a friend and ask him to tell us what he could find. Still, there was nothing we could do but keep him as comfortable as possible until morning, when we could take him to see Doc.

It got worse last night, (yet he still wanted his walk) and by this morning, he was having seizures that left him frothing at the mouth. We both knew this was probably the end, but kept trying to hold on to whatever sliver of hope there could be. When we got to the shelter, Buster was so scared he tried to run away. I don’t know if he thought we were going to abandon him there or if it was the disease making him panic. We wanted to be with him to the very end, but because of city ordinances, we had to leave him with the vet and vet tech. We walked out and just stood there, holding each other and crying in the parking lot. He was our perfect dog. He was the missing piece that we didn’t know was missing until he clicked into place and made our lives so much happier.

Just a handful of days ago, as we were lounging around on the futon with our two sleepy dogs, Tim said “It’s stupid, I know, but right now I’m so happy, it kind of hurts. I’m not used to it.”

Preparing for the worst, we spent that last evening giving him every ounce of love we could. He could hardly sleep through his tremors so I gave him a midnight buffet of hot dogs, yogurt, wet dog food and water. He still had his appetite and still loved meatballs. He seemed unable to walk so I carried him into the bedroom to sleep with Tim one last time.

On the way to the vet, he sat up in the back seat, in spite of his seizures, and looked out the window at the world he was leaving. Trees in bloom, blue skies with thick white clouds, cars, people, buildings, all in colors that seemed so bright, painted especially pretty just for him. He seemed to savor his time here and was filling his eyes with a last look at his world. He didn’t know what was happening, I know. I’m aware of anthropomorphising our pets, but I want to believe he was still full of doggy curiosity and wonder, up to the end. I just wish he hadn’t been afraid, those final minutes. I wish we could have stayed with him. But in the end, death is death and he’s not scared or suffering anymore.

We hardly had time to make memories, but my favorite one, the one that will stay with me the strongest, was one afternoon when I came home from a day out with Tim. I flopped down on the futon and Buster came in the room, looking perky. I opened my arms wide and said “Buster!” in a cheerful voice. He suddenly sprang onto my chest, laying his forelegs around my neck and resting his head against mine. A perfect cuddle, a wonderful surprise. I honestly didn’t expect that reaction. It made me laugh and call Tim in from the other room to see. He lay on me like that for a while, just “hugging” me. I would give the world for that moment one more time.

I kept his collar and tags. His id tag is on my keyring for now. I think I’d like a more fitting tribute to him, but I’ll have to figure that out later. Maybe a photo with his tag attached to the frame. Simple and classy, like my Buster.

There was a meteor shower last night. I think I saw a meteor but it went by so quickly I’m not sure it wasn’t just a trick of the light. Buster was like that: a brief, bright, beautiful light that was gone before we could blink. He was the perfect dog for us and there is a huge hole where his piece of the puzzle used to fit. But we got a glimpse of the whole picture, and it was wonderful.
.