For The Love Of Boston Terriers

On this first really steamy day of the summer season, I am somehow compelled to share several episodes involving my dearest Boston Terriers of which I’ve had many over the years.

Timmy looking so innocent

Timmy looking so innocent

Story 1:

I guess this compulsion to write arises from an incident we had the night before last with our littlest (10 lbs.) and cutest BT. As do all three of them, little Timmy loves to snuggle in bed at night, but unlike the others, he likes to be ensconced at the foot of the bed and usually under the covers. The other night, though, he chose to snuggle himself atop the covers, nestled into a groove between the mattress and bed frame. (Can you see what’s coming?)  Right. He fell. Okay, so he’s fallen off the bed before and it’s no big deal. This was a big deal. First, his little head was wedged in tight and Dominic had to lift the bed, which is very heavy, up so I could pull his head out from being jammed. Done. But a problem remained: our bed frame is so low to the ground that we still couldn’t get him out from under it. By this time I’m fairly hysterical because his little feet were cold, yet he never uttered a single whimper. Anyway, phase 2 of this project (mind you, it’s 1:30 in the morning) was to disassemble the entire bed – remove mattress, box springs, etc., so we could scoop our little guy to safety. I cradled him in my arms and rubbed his little paws to warm them up. But, the saga did not end here. “To hell with it,” said Dominic as he went to get our big, burly, awkward vacuum cleaner and proceeded to suck up the embarrassingly abundant quantities of dust bunnies and Jolly Rancher candy wrappers (mine). Moral of this story: Don’t let BT fall between cracks and make sure Jolly Rancher wrappers find their way into the waste can.

Story 2:

I had a fairly strong suspicion we were in for trouble when the transporter opened the crate and this massive bull-dog of a Boston Terrier came bounding out and proceeded to knock over everything in his path with foamy saliva from his mouth spewing everywhere. Welcome Buddy. For a while I was a foster for a Boston Terrier rescue group and Buddy was my very first foster. I was being broken in hard. Buddy barked constantly, Buddy was non-stop hyper, Buddy was adoring, and Buddy was work! When Buddy joined the pack, I had three other BTs and for some reason, two of them had some serious issues with Buddy. One in particular felt compelled to lunge for his eye and glom on so that significant damage was a real possibility. Thus, I had to keep them separate – this is a small house—it was mayhem. Buddy wanted to own me in the worst way, and this was probably the issue the other dogs had with him. He begged to be with me, 24/7 and it broke my heart when I had to cordon him off while I dealt with the others. Still, I spent as much time with him as possible. In fact, one day I had him on the leash and I was chatting with my next-door neighbor when I felt something warm — and wet – on my lower leg. My neighbor looked down in astonishment, then up at me. “Your dog just peed on your leg.” “Yes I know,” I replied as I nonchalantly swaggered off to Buddy for our walk with pee running down my leg as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Moral of this story: train dog not to pee on leg.

Sasha: could anything so innocent looking be so ferocious?

Sasha: could anything so innocent looking be so ferocious?

Story 3:

This one is short and sweet. Our female BT is the guardian of life, liberty and the pursuit of all happiness in our household. She lets us know who, what, when, where, and how for anything or anyone within the near vicinity of our house and yard. She is also my barometer of human character. There are certain people she does not see on a regular basis whom she greats with wagging tale and smiley-face. Then there are those that, well – she doesn’t. Actually, the case in point is a young man she was seeing almost daily – my daughter’s boyfriend – and every day, without fail, she barked, snarled, and hissed at him. Then, when he walked into her kitchen domain, didn’t she jump up and bite him in the ass.  Furthermore, didn’t she do this more than once! Do you ‘spose this is there the phrase ‘bite me’ came from? Anyway, moral number 3: check out all daughter’s boyfriends with canine-based barometer.

About

An author, a teacher, a candlestick maker? I am lucky enough to have followed my muse through a most eclectic life of many careers, many interests, and many friends and liasions. Two beautiful children, now grown and one their own, several books -- the penultimate accomplishment dream come true, a hores trainer, a college professor, and a stint in corporate America to validate my feelings that I never, ever want to go there again. So I donned my ruby slippers and dared to take those different paths, those diverging paths, and that has made all the difference! (Thank you, Robert!)

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