Two Years with Boone

At two years old, Boone is the baby of the family. At 110 pounds, and several inches taller than Bear, he is also our biggest baby. We could have never guessed the joy and laughter he would bring into our lives when I first saw his picture on a local rescue site.

While he is the baby, he has matured a lot in the past year especially. He now bounds up to people at the dog park happily, and accepts their attention and praise so easily—something that has been a struggle at times. He is still reluctant with other dogs, he gets skittish when excited pups run up to him to play. But every time we go, he is a little braver, a little more curious. I never tire watching the magic of rescue and love that work together to make a dog’s life so much better, every day.

Someone recently commented on a picture of Boone that I posted on Facebook: He is such a lucky boy. My immediate thought and response was, WE are the lucky ones. Boone is so loving, so sweet, just a perfect dog. I have never seen an animal so happy all the time. Boone is rarely without a smile, and he bounds through the house, absolutely grateful for every treat, every bit of attention, every time we come home from a trip to the grocery store, every snuggle with his brother Bear—just every single moment.

He also loves to watch television. Bear at times has watched a particular commercial, or might see something that caught his attention for a few seconds at most. In comparison, Boone is a couch potato. He especially loves anything animated—and if there are dogs on TV, whether in a commercial or on a show, he freezes and his attention is completely diverted to the screen. At times, he will cry out and run to the screen with such sweetness—wanting to play with the dog on the screen- that I have to get up and hug him right on the spot.

Boone’s only challenge is spacial awareness—as we like to call it. When Boone runs up to one of us, that usually means running into us. He tears through the house, taking a flying leap to land on our king sized bed, without any consideration that there are bodies under the blankets. He will flop down right on my chest and lick my face happily, while I laugh and groan with the weight of him at the same time. It is impossible to be upset with him, his smile is so constant.

Since he was a puppy, Boone has swatted at us with his paws, usually trying to grab on to us in one way or another. It is a way of showing affection for him, although his huge paws are a little more painful than his puppy paws were. Shea and Boone share the sweetest little ritual. Boone will sit in front of Shea, and Shea will say, I love you and hold out his arms. Boone will respond by sitting on his back legs and putting his paws in Shea’s arms. I like to think Boone is trying to hug us.

I often call Boone our “sunshine boy” because he is a burst of happiness every morning. He sleeps on the bed with us sometimes, but most of the time he sleeps on his doggie bed next to Shea’s side of the bed on the floor. Once a little bit of light comes through the window, I know that Boone’s head will pop up as he stands on his hind legs and starts swatting at Shea, covering him in kisses before he is fully awake. I am not a morning person in the least, but Boone’s happy morning greeting makes me smile every single day, and definitely starts my day on a good note.

He is also the most sensitive of all of our animals. When he dissects stuffed animals at lightning speed, and we hear him chewing on a squeaker he just removed, we rush to get it to keep him from choking or ingesting plastic pieces. Even though we talk sweetly to him while we take it, after returning from the trash can, Boone will inevitably be pouting, his ears back, and his head down. It only takes a few seconds to get him smiling again, but his feelings are easily hurt. I love that sweetness about him, though. There is a certain baby-ness about him in that respect that I hope he never loses.

Boone has learned so much from his big brother Bear, and it has been so good for both of them to have a sibling and a co-conspirator in backyard chases, and barking at squirrels on the roof. Whether he learned it from Bear, or just had a stubborn streak of his own, Boone can hold his ground at times to an exhausting level. His favorite stubborn moments are demanding to go outside (when he just came in five minutes ago). Although we may protest and get him to lay down for a few seconds, he is up, barking and stomping his front paws—and smiling—until we give in. He knows we will cave.

His other hilarious show of stubbornness involves coming in from outside (a little less hilarious at 2:00am). Both dogs will go outside and Bear comes back fairly quickly, barking to be let in immediately. The up and down of opening the back door to our fenced in back yard can be a little tiresome, so we try to get Boone in at the same time. He will stand or sit in the yard and stare at us as we call his name. But, if we say the word “treat”, he dashes in. He has us trained very well.

Bear and Boone have always been so sweet with each other. They have their moments of struggling to share toys and they worry if they are getting an equal number of treats (they are), but Boone has been good for Bear, and Bear has been so, so good for Boone.

I say all the time that Boone is the biggest love on four legs. He is. He is also funny, sweet, emotional, and just pure joy. He makes us laugh on days when it seems impossible to smile. He and Bear both share nursing duties when I am fighting one of my frequent migraines. He is an absolute ham, and knows how to work his cute face to get just about anything he wants. He is another love of our lives, a furry, smart, endearing, adorable creature that has a huge part of our hearts.

As he snores next to us tonight after two days of celebrating two years with us, I am so thankful for chance, fate, coincidence—whatever it is that brought Boone into our lives. I am so thankful that we were a part of rescuing him, that we are the ones who get to love and spoil him.

Happy 2^nd birthday sweet Boone--we are the lucky ones.

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Six Years with Bear

I am terribly behind in writing this post. Months behind. I made excuses, and some were valid. We lost our cat Lucy near Christmastime, and the weeks after that were difficult. There were added stressors, and other things that seemed to get in the way. 

But, every year, I have looked so forward to writing this post and sharing my memories of sweet Bear. I realized finally that my hesitation is rooted a little bit in fear. Time is passing so fast. Bear is six. How can that be? For some reason, this year is hard. Passing the five year mark, he is less of a baby, and at times, I can see it. His once cast iron stomach, which was affected by absolutely nothing he ate—from lipstick to light bulbs—now gets queasy and upset from overdoing it with treats. His boundless energy, which I used to beg for a break from—is now a thing of the past. He has spurts of it—definitely—but prefers napping and sleeping in on lazy Sunday mornings. He’s had a few aches and pains, too, back strains that left him unable to jump on the bed for a few days (which had me sleeping with him on the floor) and a few hurt paws and leg strains that made him limp for a few days.

He is actually healthy and in great shape, the vet assures me, as I worriedly take him in for every little concern. He is just getting older. He is not even “old” at this point. It is just hard to watch the transition.

Bear is more than a dog, more than a companion. He is one of the loves of my life, and I say this without doubt or hesitation. A part of my heart will always be his. He found me (and I believe that in some cosmic way he did find me) at the very lowest point of my life. Even then, I didn’t realize that’s where I was. But he came to me then, and was the only heartbeat strong enough to pull me completely out of that pit I was in. There is a magical connection between us, I can’t fully explain it, and I don’t expect others to accept or comprehend it. I am so grateful to him, for loving me, and teaching me to love and laugh again.

This bond with us was unfortunately formed at a time when I was deeply depressed, and now Bear has a sixth sense with me of when I am drifting towards that abyss. There is a knowing look in his eyes that both comforts and scares me a bit. How can he know? How can he know when no one else does? He pulls a little closer to me in those moments and stares and at me long and lovingly. I am here—he seems to say. I feel it.

The best example of this is a recent moment in my life that I will never, as long as I live, ever forget. My husband was there to see it, and I am so thankful that someone else saw how special it was.

It was Saturday, December 13, 2014. My husband and I had just come home from letting our cat Lucy go, having her put to sleep, after a traumatic ordeal. Just minutes before we walked in the house, I had cradled my cat of 14 years in my arms for the last time and felt all the guilt of the world rush over me. The moment was bigger than that; I felt I had failed in one of the few things I could rely on knowing how to do—taking care of these fur babies. I came into the house and although Bear and Boone were doing their usual wiggly, happy, welcome dance, I couldn’t engage. 

I tried to make it to my bedroom in the back of the house, and couldn’t. I made it as far as the guest bedroom and collapsed on the bed, lying on my side facing the wall, sobbing in a way that I haven’t in years. Boone came in the room, utterly confused, jumped on the bed and back off. At first, Shea didn’t realize where I went and was looking for me. In the meantime, Bear came slowly into the room. He carefully got on the bed just as Shea entered the room and sat behind me on the bed. Bear crept slowly to me, and began licking the tears from my face. He then carefully laid down next to me and slid his two front paws under my head and neck, something he has never done before. Then, he put his head between my head and shoulders and pulled me close. Shea actually gasped. He said Bear had the most human expression, that he shut his eyes tight as he pulled me close. I sobbed into Bear’s chest for a good bit and held him, amazed at this act of comfort. I won’t ever forget that. I can’t do it justice with my words. But in moments of sadness, loss, and despair, Bear has found me, always.

Bear has a really good life. He is spoiled by anyone’s measure. He wants for nothing. We tell him every day, over and over again, how much we love him. He has a big back yard to romp with his little brother. Boone idolizes him, and the two of them love to play and bark at all the threats that dare come too close to our house, real or imagined. The two of them are regular visitors to the local dog park and one of my great joys is looking across the park and seeing Bear’s huge smile as he takes it all in. He still does laps around the huge park in bouts of what we call “crazy dog”, which actually comforts me, letting me know that he still has some puppy energy in there somewhere. 

Bear and Shea have an incredibly close, special bond that was instantaneous when they met, and part of the reason I was able to open my heart to Shea, when I had thought true love was something for the rest of the world, not me.

Bear is an unapologetic bed hog, taking up most of the space in our king-size bed every night. He will playfully growl if I try to move him, and often kicks both of us in annoyance when we interrupt his comfortable sleeping positions. There are times when it would be easier to make him move to the floor, but Shea and I will share a glance, and although we don’t say anything, I know we are both thinking that he won’t always be here and he gets to sleep however he wants.

At his last vet visit, Bear, as usual, charmed everyone and the vet laughed as he himself was tricked into giving Bear another treat in exchange for cooperation during his exam. The vet let me know that Bear really could lose a few pounds, and that we needed to cut back on the treats. We try, but this face is hard to resist.

He makes us laugh, with his stubborn, funny attitude—his sneaky way of tricking his brother out of his bones and toys, and his human-sounding burps and farts, that still, after 6 years, make us belly laugh every time. He is unapologetic about those, too.

As I write this, Bear is lying next to me, snoring a little, snuggled up as close as he can get, with a paw on my knee. I have been having a rough couple of days, and today for some reason, has been tougher. He knows that. Somehow, he knows.

Thank you for a beautiful, love-filled, happy, hilarious, special, flying-by-too-fast six years my sweet boy. We love you. I love you. You are my sunshine.

All of my Bear posts, year by year:

Five Years with Bear

Four Years with Bear

Three Years with Bear

Two Years with Bear

Rescued

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One Year with Boone

A year ago today, we brought a twelve-week-old puppy into our home. We named him Boone. I have written about that day before. We already had a bit of a full house of rescue animals—one dog and three cats, but I very much wanted a sibling for our dog Bear, a built in playmate to keep him active. I saw a picture on a rescue website, and sent an email asking about him. One thing led to another, I sent an application, and then, we were off to an adoption event to meet him. I will never forget one of the volunteers picking him up and bringing him to us. He looked so small and scared. Boone had been in a high-kill shelter before the rescue pulled him and saved him. He would have been put down. The thought of him in a shelter alone and scared still bothers me. His foster mom was at the event that day, and she told us he was special. She clearly loved him. Everyone was surprised at how fast he took to Bear, jumping and playing. We all immediately loved him. He fell asleep on Shea’s lap during the long ride home, and never moved.

We came home and Boone found a place on the couch and didn’t move for hours. We petted him and gave him kisses, and Bear snuggled up to him. I finally picked him up to give him a bath, and it was if that was the moment he knew he was home. He came to life and never looked back. He bounded through the house, happy and boisterous. He played with toys, ate a lot of food, played with Bear, ventured outside in the back yard, and made himself at home. Leaving the house was another matter. This is still one of the things that breaks my heart when I think back on his first months here. Since Boone had been transported a lot in his early life, I am sure he never knew where he was being taken. When we had to leave our house for the vet or the dog park, he would stop, and run back to the front door and press against it, wanting to go back in. He would scratch the door, begging to stay. I was in tears the first few times this happened, because there was no way for me to reassure him that we were coming back, that we weren’t taking him away – that he would get to come back home. Shea and I would sit on the sidewalk and tell him this, but he couldn’t understand. He would shake in the car and actually get sick and throw up. It killed me every time. The only thing that made it better was to watch his reaction and relief when we would pull back in the driveway, and he would run in the house and know he was back home. Today, he loves to go to the car, he knows it means something fun, usually a trip to the dog park—his favorite place. His anxieties are behind him now.

It is amazing how different Boone’s personality is, compared to Bear’s. Bear has always been so confident, even as a puppy. He was always fearless, even though his background was similar to Boone’s. Boone is more timid, in some ways, but he is definitely hilarious. He makes us laugh all the time. He is also one of the most perpetually happy creatures I have ever known. He is truly the most grateful rescue dog I have ever seen. When we give him a treat, especially a particularly big one, he will almost always come and give us a thank you kiss. He has this huge Boone smile on his face almost 24/7. His tail is wagging all the time, so much so that somewhere in the house you hear its “thump, thump” throughout the day. However, like Bear, patience is not his strong suit. One of the things that amuses us most is Boone’s ability to stomp when he feels he is being ignored. He has done this since he was a puppy. He loves to go outside, and barks to go out pretty constantly. When we say no, especially when he asks to go out immediately after being let in, he will huff and puff and stomp his front paws. We nicknamed him “wrecking ball” almost from day one for his lack of understanding of personal space boundaries. His idea of asking for a piece of your sandwich is sticking his face in your sandwich. Likewise, his way of waking us up in the morning is jumping on your chest (all 90+ pounds of him—at full force) and swatting your face with his paws. It’s all done with love, he just doesn’t understand how huge he is—AT ALL. During his first vet visits, the vet told me there was no way he would be as big as Bear. How wrong he was. He has surpassed Bear. He his taller, and will weigh more once he fills in.

Boone has a funny, deep, gruff, growly bark that often turns into a howl. He will banter and argue with us at the drop of a hat, which I must admit we enjoy a little too much.

Boone watches television more than any other animal I have ever witnessed. He is, however, most interested in animals on tv, in particular, dogs. He will freeze if a dog is on tv, whether it’s on a commercial, or in a movie or program, and remain transfixed by every movement. He sometimes cries out and then looks at us, amazed by the dog –right there in the room with us! He will cock his head and lift his ears and change his facial expressions all while watching his fellow canine friends on television.

He is also a bit of a tattle tale. If anyone in the house hurts his feelings, for instance me, when I catch him in the trash…he will run to Shea to let him know that I was unfairly targeting him for no reason. I can be in the back bedroom and Boone will run to me with his feelings clearly hurt and I know that he has been reprimanded for some reason, just by his demeanor. He will fortunately quickly recover with a treat, especially if cheese is involved.

I have said before that Boone is the biggest love on four legs that I have ever met. I tear up at the dog park, still, when I watch him go up to everyone and get endless attention, because when we first brought him home, other people terrified him. It took him awhile to warm up to people and trust them. Dogs were fine, but people were another matter. He loves us so much. I can’t count the number of Boone kisses I have gotten in the last year. He snuggles up to me at every opportunity, and he adores Shea so much, that he cries out when Shea leaves the room.

And does he ever love Bear. Bear has been the best big brother we could have ever hoped for. He was patient with Boone from day one, and in turn, Boone has helped Bear stay active and has given him a playmate to sniff the back yard and guard the house with. Boone absolutely adores Bear. Bear still struggles with sharing toys, but luckily for everyone, Boone doesn’t care too much, as long as he can hang out with Bear.

In other words, Boone has been the perfect addition to our home in so many ways. This year has flown by. It was all luck and chance that brought him to us. I just happened to see that photo one night, everything just happened to click into place. Today, I am especially thankful for all the little pieces of luck that brought this sweet boy into our lives. It’s hard to remember a time without him.

Thank you for a great first year, buddy, we love you.

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Bringing Boone Home

It started with this picture.

He had been rescued from a high kill shelter, only 12 weeks old and just hours away from being euthanized. The whole process of whatever had happened before he got to the shelter, plus his time at the shelter had just traumatized him. He was incredibly timid and shy and needed a home with patient caregivers, and in the best of situations, a confident big brother to help him get his bearings and come out of his shell.

 

I stared at the picture for a few seconds and looked into his eyes. I have seen hundreds of rescue pictures. I follow a lot of rescue organizations on Facebook, and every now and then, one dog will catch my eye, or a story will tug at my heart. This was one of them. But this one in particular felt different. I emailed the rescue contact and asked if there had been a lot of interest in the dog, whose name at the time was Cameron. She responded, “No one yet”. I told her we really weren’t looking, I just wanted a sibling for Bear before he got much older, and something about Cameron got to me. We emailed a little, back and forth. She checked out my Facebook profile and the pictures and stories about Bear. She felt like Bear would be THE perfect big brother for Cameron. She sent me an application, and asked me to “just fill it out and let’s see”. Cameron, she said, was a special case. The foster mom was very attached and wanted to make sure he was placed carefully. He was incredibly sweet, but was having a hard time.

I hadn’t yet talked to my husband about this crazy idea.

We currently had four furry residents in our house. Three cats and our beloved dog Bear. I can honestly say that Bear is the center of our world, and we both love him so much, that there is no doubt he is spoiled and cared for beyond measure. I have, for awhile, wanted to get another dog as Bear has started sleeping a lot and getting less active, and at five years old, he doesn’t need to do that. He is only doing that because we are doing that, and honestly because our schedules have let us do that. Bear loves to play, and we don’t always make it to the dog park as much as we used to because his energy level isn’t as intense as it used to be. I didn’t want to wait much longer to get another dog, because I want him to be young enough to enjoy a playmate.

When I first broached the subject of another dog, my husband Shea looked at me as if I had completely lost my mind. He loves our animals just as much as I do, and he and Bear are incredibly bonded. But, we aren’t financially in the best place, we do already have FOUR animals, we are renting and will probably be renting for a long time to come (which isn’t always easy to do when you have a small zoo in tow), a puppy is a lot of work, and to top it all off, I was about to leave for a business trip for six days. He wasn’t even considering the possibility. All of his arguments were valid, and honestly, right.

Usually, when I have gone through this before, even sometimes a rescue would call or contact me about a particular case, something would happen, someone else would adopt or foster the dog, and the whole situation would be resolved without my involvement. But in this case, that just didn’t happen. And usually, every other time, something in me told me it wasn’t right. This time was different.

Shea knew the person I was when he married me. Within the first year after we were married, he definitely knew what he had gotten into. We were still living in South Carolina then, and he was riding with me to a sales appointment. It was a rainy gray day and we were getting off the interstate. As we drove on the exit ramp, I saw two dogs wandering precariously in and out of speeding traffic. They were muddy, the rain was coming down and drivers were swerving in the bad weather to miss them. I started to pull over immediately and Shea stopped me. He said something to the effect of “Are you insane?” I drove a little further and stopped. I looked at him and said, “You knew who I was when you married me. I am the person who will stop on a rainy, muddy day and pick up strange dogs. I can’t live with myself otherwise.” I knew I was with the right person when I saw his face soften as he looked at me and then got out of the car with me and called for the dogs, who at first seemed to have disappeared, but then gratefully ran to our car. They jumped in, mud and all. A funny side note to that day, after they got into the car, they immediately both jumped over the back seat and all over Shea, licking him in gratitude, but also covering him in mud. We had to throw away his shirt. But he was such a good sport. We were able to find a local vet nearby who took them in and called a local rescue after checking for microchips.

We had agreed to meet the rescue contact at a local pet fair on the upcoming Saturday, and even though Shea was not on board completely, he said he knew how I felt and would come with me and see what happened.

Both of us were most concerned about Bear. If Bear was unhappy or overly jealous, or if this would impact him negatively at all, it wouldn’t happen. Period.

They brought out this shy little puppy, warning us that he probably wouldn’t even walk around with so many people around. But when he saw Bear, a light went on. It was love at first sight. He immediately jumped and romped and wagged his tail. Bear became a big brother right away.

We had already decided on a name if things worked out…Boone (for my husband’s college town). Boone’s foster mom was there and the rescue contact and they were both so happy and touched watching him open up so much more quickly than they thought he could.

I kept coming back to Shea. I knew he was unsure. I knew he was right about all his worries. He always says he loves my heart. And despite his concerns, and everything else, he looked at me then at Bear, and said, “Bear, let’s take your little brother home.”

I was home for for five days before taking off for a six day business trip to Chicago. In those five days, I suddenly remembered how hard it is taking care of puppies. Boone was still very shy for about five hours. Then, it was as if he suddenly knew he was safe and he bounded through the house, and romped outside, and ate and ate and ate. (something we couldn’t get him to do at first). But it was tiring, and non-stop. The thought of leaving Shea alone with all of this for six days was daunting. I laid awake at night worrying if I had made the right decision, and if Shea would be ok, and if everything would work out alright. But, I remembered that I felt the same way when I first brought Bear home and sometimes felt overwhelmed, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that bringing Bear home was the best decision ever. I just had to trust my gut and my heart.

As I prepared to come back from my business trip, I worried. Six days was a long time for Shea to handle everything alone, especially in the early days of helping a puppy adjust. But I came home to find that he had fallen in love with Boone, and vice versa. How could he not? Look at that face! But I was so relieved. I knew seeing Shea and watching him and Boone that everything was ok and I had made the right decision.

My love for Bear has only grown, sometimes I think my heart will burst as I watch him be such a patient big brother. Shea and I both thought he would be more possessive and jealous about his food, but he has been surprisingly forgiving. He is learning to share his toys, which is taking a little more time. But overall, the two boys are romping and playing, Bear is getting so much more exercise, and they are both having a blast.

I could never have known the love and comfort my animals would provide in my life. I have been so lucky to find my way to these animals at just the right moments. I have written before about this, but as much as I have saved them, they have saved me. There is something so magical about being a part of a rescue animal's journey, about seeing that light come on when they know they are safe, and that everything is going to be ok. It fills my heart, and honestly at times, gives me purpose. Thankfully, my husband understands. We are at full capacity now, though. There's no more room in our house, or our bed for that matter, for any more fur babies for a long time. 

But I am so, so thankful that we had room for just one more.

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