Today We Rescued Your Dog
by Pat Closher
Today we rescued your dog. We don’t know where you got him from - maybe you saw him in a pet store window or maybe one of your neighbors bred a few litters a year just to make some vacation money or because they loved their dogs so much that of course they wanted to have puppies. We don’t know much about how you cared for him either, although our vet thought that for such a young dog, his teeth were in pretty bad shape.
by Pat Closher
Today we rescued your dog. We don’t know where you got him from - maybe you saw him in a pet store window or maybe one of your neighbors bred a few litters a year just to make some vacation money or because they loved their dogs so much that of course they wanted to have puppies. We don’t know much about how you cared for him either, although our vet thought that for such a young dog, his teeth were in pretty bad shape.
Did you know they were going to keep him outside? At least it was a pretty mild winter. There were no heavy snows, not much heavy winter rain and only a few days of bitter cold. But for all of those weeks he had no companionship, no care, and no love.
For some reason, your grandparents took him to the shelter. Maybe a neighbor complained about him or maybe their own health gave out or maybe they just got tired of him. You know the local shelter is a kill shelter, don’t you? You know that their own statistics indicate that about half of the dogs that enter are killed, don’t you? Maybe your grandparents thought he would be adopted quickly. He is a purebred, after all. No one was interested in him, though, maybe since he’s an adult dog and not a cute little puppy. No one contacted the purebred rescue group either. They probably would have placed him quickly, since he really is a great boy. The shelter is a clean place and they take good care of the dogs. They get good food and they’re bathed and brushed. It’s still a shelter though, and is noisy and chaotic and frightening. He spent two months there in that confusion, away from everyone and everything he had known.
One day, we saw him on the shelter web site. We called and asked about him. The shelter workers were so happy to hear from us and were delighted to agree to bring him to a local pet store where they do adoptions. Do you want to know why they were so accommodating? He was scheduled to be killed that afternoon. He didn’t know that, but the shelter workers certainly did. It hurt them and he felt that, so he knew something was wrong. All of a sudden, though, the shelter workers were happy and excited and so was he. They bathed him and brushed his coat. We think they probably told him this was it - his big chance, or maybe he just knew it somehow. When we met him, we all fell in love.
He had to go to the vet to be neutered, of course, but then he came home. He has his very own 13 year-old boy. You know, it’s almost like watching one of those old Lassie movies, seeing how well they’ve bonded. He’s got good food and his own toys. He’s taken on walks three times a day, is regularly groomed and is taken to the vet for needed care. We’ll be with him always, even if we have to make that last, difficult decision, because, you see, he is our dog and we are his family.
He has a good heart you know, but then he is a dog, so that’s to be expected. He’s probably forgiven you and, with a dog’s grace, doesn’t even remember you dumped him. He’d probably even be willing to greet you at the Rainbow Bridge. But you know what? He’ll greet us and go with us at the Bridge, and then he’ll be with us forever, because he’s our dog and we’re his family.
The way we heard the story, you moved out of state and didn’t want to take him with you. You left him at your grandparents. Maybe you thought a lively, handsome dog was just the thing for them, and under better circumstances it might have been. Maybe they have been cleaning up your messes for your entire life and an unwanted dog was just another mess to clean up.One day, we saw him on the shelter web site. We called and asked about him. The shelter workers were so happy to hear from us and were delighted to agree to bring him to a local pet store where they do adoptions. Do you want to know why they were so accommodating? He was scheduled to be killed that afternoon. He didn’t know that, but the shelter workers certainly did. It hurt them and he felt that, so he knew something was wrong. All of a sudden, though, the shelter workers were happy and excited and so was he. They bathed him and brushed his coat. We think they probably told him this was it - his big chance, or maybe he just knew it somehow. When we met him, we all fell in love.
He had to go to the vet to be neutered, of course, but then he came home. He has his very own 13 year-old boy. You know, it’s almost like watching one of those old Lassie movies, seeing how well they’ve bonded. He’s got good food and his own toys. He’s taken on walks three times a day, is regularly groomed and is taken to the vet for needed care. We’ll be with him always, even if we have to make that last, difficult decision, because, you see, he is our dog and we are his family.
He has a good heart you know, but then he is a dog, so that’s to be expected. He’s probably forgiven you and, with a dog’s grace, doesn’t even remember you dumped him. He’d probably even be willing to greet you at the Rainbow Bridge. But you know what? He’ll greet us and go with us at the Bridge, and then he’ll be with us forever, because he’s our dog and we’re his family.
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We adopted Lexi short 3 1/2 years ago. We had just lost our “first child”/boxer and were heartbroken. Lexi helped to heal our family and brought joy to us all. Her heart was so full of love (especially for her kids) that one day it just gave out. It was sudden and quick and she did not suffer. We will forever miss her happy face, affectionate manner, her joyous way of greeting everyone who entered our home, the thump of her tail, and the way she always watched us drive away from the front window. Everyone was her friend and she will be greatly missed by her family, as well as her neighborhood friends, big and small. We miss you sweet girl. You left your paw print on our hearts forever! Love: Shawn, Quan, Hana (8), Jonah (5), & Noah (3).
Dash came into our lives in August 2006, he was my wedding present from my husband. We drove from College Station down to Houston the Saturday after we were married to pick out a dog. Marsh and Mellow were siblings but completely different personalities. We were drawn to Marsh and decided to adopt him. On the way home we went back and forth on names eventually settling on Dash. We named him such due to his abundance of energy, just like the little boy in the Incredibles. By the time we arrived back in College station my hair was plastered to my face and I had to use a half box of Q-tips to clean all the slobber out of my ears. We and our families fell in love with him instantly, it was hard not to smile at him, he was always up to something. Eventually we moved from College Station to Conroe for my job and Harley joined the family. Then we moved down to Spring to be closer to Bill’s school. He handled each move well, as long as there was food to eat he was home. He didn’t bat an eye when we had Hurricane Ike and had to spend a week at grandma and grandpa’s house. Bill and I realized then how big a part of our family both dogs were, the house felt empty without them. I still remember the look Dash gave me when I tried to get him to go out and potty during the storm, the “are you nuts lady?!?!” look, but he did it. Then we added our own human kid to the mix. Dash was soooo curious about Ethan when he was born, he couldn’t keep his head out of the way, always sniffing and checking. Whenever Ethan would move it would startle Dash so much he would knock furniture over. As Ethan grew and started crawling, walking, and running Dash took it all in stride. He waited patiently for dinner to be over so he could “clean” the high chair. Whenever we went on walks no one was allowed to come near the stroller, he was very protective of his family. My favorite memory of him with Ethan was caught on film by my husband; Ethan, Dash, and Harley all crowded at the front window looking out at the world. I’ll never forget him “fighting” the vacuum, chasing snowflakes and getting overwhelmed, digging in the sandbox and wearing most of it into the house, circling five times before “rolling over,” letting Harley win just so they could keep playing, watching his ears perk when “Bill’s home,” and the way he sounded like a bowling ball flying down the stairs. After seeing three vets and making a very hard decision we had to let him go on January 7th 2012. He got sick pretty quickly, all of his symptoms were linked back to a probably tumor in his brain. We plan to take his ashes out to the farm where all of my families other dogs have been placed so he can be among his kind. I look forward to the greeting we will have at the Rainbow Bridge and know he will be waiting for us. The Shattuck Family
We only knew you a short time but it didn't take long to fall in love with you! Your soulful eyes were trying to tell us of your discomfort and despite your loving demeanor, you were in pain and struggling with each breath. We are so thankful for knowing you! Run free in peaceful bliss sweet Keegan! Your friends at LSBR
Shiner - Our Gentle Giant While it was hard to let you go, you blessed us with so many memories. You were our first LSBR adoption and with us for over half of the kids’ lives - there will never be another like you. On Halloween day, 2004, the wonderful and giving Debbie Lon suggested we take a look at you, even though you weren’t on our list of Boxers we initially wanted to see. Allie was our only Boxer at the time and she joined us for the search process. Well, Allie turned her nose up at all of the boxers we were interested in and even got after one of the choices. You, however, were a different story - a few sniffs and she was ready to play - we knew you were the one!!! To this day, we want to meet the person who trained you because they did an awesome job!!! We never had to crate you because you never tore anything up, from day one! You NEVER had an accident in the house unless you did not feel well. You NEVER left the yard unless you were leashed; how did you know this was your home on day one? Even if the kids were down the street, yelling your name at the top of their lungs, you would simply stammer and whimper at the end of the driveway but never leave. Even if we left you outside by mistake, you simply made yourself at home on the covered swing and watched the nature around you or caught a few zzzzzz’s. When you were ready to come in, you nudged the door knob to tell us it was time. You were a brother to 1 rabbit, 2 birds, 2 guinea pigs, 3 cats, and 3 boxers, as well as a foster brother to 15 LSBR fosters - gentle, nurturing, and kind to each an every one. We never fully understood your affinity for the air compressor but you always came running when you heard it kick on, looking for another chance to “bite the air” as it came out of the nozzle. The Frisbee was your friend, chasing it as you kicked up your back legs like a bucking bronco, and catching it with the grace of a border collie. You loved sleeping with the kids and whined when you were not in the same room with someone in the family. With wisdom and spiritually beyond his years, our son said, “Allie and Gator flew down with their Angels to greet you with a humongous rawhide bone and to show you the way back to heaven. You all three carried the rawhide back with Helga, Condrey, Elvis, Scout, Jaws, and Blue Bell following behind in their own way.” Even though you crossed the Rainbow Bridge on December 29th, 2011, you left us with a seven plus years of wonderful Boxer memories - you will not be forgotten!! With love - the Basford family
Judge
Giving Thanks for Judge In 2006, a few months after my third Boxer, Lucius, went over the Rainbow Bridge, I began to miss having a Boxer at my side. I knew a few of the Boxers at the Fritz kennels from having walked them during the Memorial Day, Fourth of July, Thanksgiving and Christmas/New Year holidays. For a week or more during those holidays, they were crated to make room in the indoor/outdoor runs for "paying" canine customers. One of the dogs I walked that year was a sweet senior Boxer named Judge. Judge was a gentle giant. Everyone loved Judge, but, inexplicably, he kept being overlooked by adopters. When I learned that he had some physical challenges, I offered to foster him over Thanksgiving week. If it worked out for both of us, I was prepared to extend his stay. I knew Judge would have to be crated, but since I was at home most of the time and it was a holiday week, I figured I could give him lots of quality time. And quality time, for Judge, meant walks. Not just two walks a day. Not just short walks. But hours-long walks, lengthy walks. Walk-'til-he-wears-out kind of walks. So, even though he was at times disoriented from the physical difficulty he was facing, Judge and I walked to his heart's content. His pace was slow, and he liked to stop for rests, but he never wanted to go back inside. He would've been happy to sleep under the stars. We walked to all sorts of places that I thought he would enjoy -- along the edge of a private golf course, through neighborhoods with wide streets and few cars, and to shops where the clerks lavished him with praise, hugs and kisses, and gave him dog treats. As we meandered along, I talked to him, hugged him, and sang hymns to him. Not once did he complain about my untrained vocal chords. For thirteen days Judge reveled in the crisp autumn air, drinking in the sounds and sights and smells of life all around him. On the fourteenth day, Judge was having trouble walking in a straight line or even standing in one place. It was apparent that he had had his fill of physical freedom on earth and was ready to be released to the unconfined joy, harmony, peace of a realm beyond. When I called Aimee at the kennel to let her know that it was time for Judge to move on, we arranged for me to drive him to the Fritz, pick up his friend Dallas there, and then go to the nearby vet's office. At the Fritz, everyone said their teary goodbyes to Judge, who made it clear that he appreciated their love and loved each of them in return. When we got to the vet, Dallas carried Judge gently from the car to the reception room and then into a little room where Gentle Giant Judge would be put to sleep. Dallas held Judge and stroked him and whispered to him, his tears spilling onto Judge's soft brown coat. I had a few tears myself, having bonded with this beautiful Boxer during our two weeks of constant companioning. What comforted me, though, was seeing how peaceful Judge was. We had to wait quite a while for the vet to arrive. The whole time, Judge was as calm and quiet as could be. I feel he knew what was happening, and was unafraid. It seemed like he was attempting to put our minds at rest by letting us know that we were doing what he wanted, what was the "right thing" for him. When Dallas and I drove somberly back to the Fritz, I had no inkling of what would happen next. The minute I walked in, I was led to walk into the room with the crates. There was only one Boxer there, a muscular, thin, gray-muzzled senior who was just finishing heartworm treatment and had to stay crated and quiet. I squatted down and tearfully told this boy about Judge. Then, without even realizing I was doing so, I asked him if he'd like to come home with me. He answered "yes" with his tongue, by licking away my tears. To this day, I am awed to think that my desire to give Judge the gift of a home on Thanksgiving paved the way for Judge to give me two gifts: his friendship plus a new companion named Oscar, who in the last two and a half years of his life taught me many needed lessons about patience and perseverence, forgiveness and friendship. I thank both Judge and Oscar from the bottom of my Boxer-loving heart. Susan Submitted in November 2011
Giving Thanks for Judge In 2006, a few months after my third Boxer, Lucius, went over the Rainbow Bridge, I began to miss having a Boxer at my side. I knew a few of the Boxers at the Fritz kennels from having walked them during the Memorial Day, Fourth of July, Thanksgiving and Christmas/New Year holidays. For a week or more during those holidays, they were crated to make room in the indoor/outdoor runs for "paying" canine customers. One of the dogs I walked that year was a sweet senior Boxer named Judge. Judge was a gentle giant. Everyone loved Judge, but, inexplicably, he kept being overlooked by adopters. When I learned that he had some physical challenges, I offered to foster him over Thanksgiving week. If it worked out for both of us, I was prepared to extend his stay. I knew Judge would have to be crated, but since I was at home most of the time and it was a holiday week, I figured I could give him lots of quality time. And quality time, for Judge, meant walks. Not just two walks a day. Not just short walks. But hours-long walks, lengthy walks. Walk-'til-he-wears-out kind of walks. So, even though he was at times disoriented from the physical difficulty he was facing, Judge and I walked to his heart's content. His pace was slow, and he liked to stop for rests, but he never wanted to go back inside. He would've been happy to sleep under the stars. We walked to all sorts of places that I thought he would enjoy -- along the edge of a private golf course, through neighborhoods with wide streets and few cars, and to shops where the clerks lavished him with praise, hugs and kisses, and gave him dog treats. As we meandered along, I talked to him, hugged him, and sang hymns to him. Not once did he complain about my untrained vocal chords. For thirteen days Judge reveled in the crisp autumn air, drinking in the sounds and sights and smells of life all around him. On the fourteenth day, Judge was having trouble walking in a straight line or even standing in one place. It was apparent that he had had his fill of physical freedom on earth and was ready to be released to the unconfined joy, harmony, peace of a realm beyond. When I called Aimee at the kennel to let her know that it was time for Judge to move on, we arranged for me to drive him to the Fritz, pick up his friend Dallas there, and then go to the nearby vet's office. At the Fritz, everyone said their teary goodbyes to Judge, who made it clear that he appreciated their love and loved each of them in return. When we got to the vet, Dallas carried Judge gently from the car to the reception room and then into a little room where Gentle Giant Judge would be put to sleep. Dallas held Judge and stroked him and whispered to him, his tears spilling onto Judge's soft brown coat. I had a few tears myself, having bonded with this beautiful Boxer during our two weeks of constant companioning. What comforted me, though, was seeing how peaceful Judge was. We had to wait quite a while for the vet to arrive. The whole time, Judge was as calm and quiet as could be. I feel he knew what was happening, and was unafraid. It seemed like he was attempting to put our minds at rest by letting us know that we were doing what he wanted, what was the "right thing" for him. When Dallas and I drove somberly back to the Fritz, I had no inkling of what would happen next. The minute I walked in, I was led to walk into the room with the crates. There was only one Boxer there, a muscular, thin, gray-muzzled senior who was just finishing heartworm treatment and had to stay crated and quiet. I squatted down and tearfully told this boy about Judge. Then, without even realizing I was doing so, I asked him if he'd like to come home with me. He answered "yes" with his tongue, by licking away my tears. To this day, I am awed to think that my desire to give Judge the gift of a home on Thanksgiving paved the way for Judge to give me two gifts: his friendship plus a new companion named Oscar, who in the last two and a half years of his life taught me many needed lessons about patience and perseverence, forgiveness and friendship. I thank both Judge and Oscar from the bottom of my Boxer-loving heart. Susan Submitted in November 2011
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