He's gotten a lot bigger since then! And his name is Boomer now. It suits him.
#2 told his friend, almost a year ago, to tell her friend, that if she ever wanted to give him up, to let him know. She doesn't want to give him up.
However, after finding Bruno a new home (the dog who kills things just for fun), in the city,
It's been almost a year, and we are all still hurting from the loss of our boy.
So #2 asked his friend, again, how her friend's puppy was doing.
And her friend friended him on facebook. And asked him if we wanted to come visit her puppy.
I didn't want to visit. Our neighbour kept two of Waldo's daughters, and it hurts to see them. But I told him to ask if they got him fixed. They didn't. He got the phone number, and Husband called.
They agreed to let us borrow him. We can make puppies. We can have a grandson of Waldo!
The very next morning, I noticed blood spots on the floor. It took half the day, and I'm sure my girls were getting tired of me following them around, but I confirmed it was in fact Wonder.
And now we have Boomer as a house guest.
There's been a lot of sniffing going on, but so far, we haven't witnessed any action.
It's quite the experience. We don't know if he remembers us, or having lived here, but he's settled in like one of the crew.
His mom, Ebony, growls at him at feeding time. It's kind of funny, because our dogs have food down almost constantly, share bowls, and the only time Ebony ever growled at anyone for eating alongside of her was when she was ready for her puppies to get out of her dish and find new homes. But she growls that low growl every time I fill a dish, telling him to back off. Otherwise they get along great.
His sister, (Ebony's daughter from another litter, different father), thinks he's great fun to play with.
Wonder hasn't cuddled up with him quite like she used to, but they're getting there.
But the strangest thing has got to be the cat. Lucky does not like dogs. We picked him up off the street about 11 years ago, a mean lean scrapping street cat. He used to beg for scraps where I used to work. When we brought him home, he cornered our jack russel in the bathroom, growling, loud, like a dog, and I swear he was going to kill him. He has smacked around every dog we've had since then. Somewhere along the line he decided he liked Waldo, and he would curl up beside him on the floor, and even play with him.
So, imagine my surprise to find him rolling around on the floor beside Boomer.
Boomer does not have a cat at his new house, and was not interested in playing with Lucky. So Lucky just sat and stared at him.
He's a lot like his dad. It's hard to see it every day.
His long, lean body. Curly black fur. The white patch on his chest.
The way he barks when someone comes in. Not really aggressive, but a very clear warning, that you don't belong here.
The way he plays with the other dogs. He's the biggest, and the only male, but he totally lets them be dominant.
The way he climbs up on the couch or bed slowly, front first, and then dragging his rear end up behind him. No jumping.
The way he stretches his huge awkward self out in the middle of a room, in the way, and makes everyone walk around him.
The howling. I didn't even realize I missed the howling until I heard him. Waldo was part husky. The girls don't howl.
The way he just loves to be outside. All of the time. Even at -16°C. The girls rush out, do their business, and rush back in. Waldo loved to be outside.
The way he eats his veggies. He likes potatoes, beans, and apples. He took a carrot, but then didn't seem to know what to do with it. Waldo ate everything, but he really loved a good carrot. Especially one earned in the pasture by utter cuteness when he knew darned well those carrots were supposed to be barn critter treats.
The way he lays down with his back legs tucked up tight, like a rabbit ready to pounce.
He's a lot like his mom, too. He has her face. He must scratch and rearrange the blankets before he lays down. He must squeeze in front of the other dogs, under your arm, 'pet me first!' The way he wakes me up because he needs to go pee!
And on top of all that, yesterday one of the ducks was out in the yard alone. He was way out of reach. He went running. But he didn't pounce on it and kill it. He just stopped and sniffed and nudged it, and looked back at me as if to say this isn't supposed to be here.
It's been a pleasure and a curse. He is absolutely great. And hopefully he will soon realize that he has work to do and get the job done. He is exactly what I want, and I am very excited for the future.
But I am also crying every day again. I miss my boy. It hurts to see him every day, but just not quite. I miss my Waldo.
It's quite the experience. We don't know if he remembers us, or having lived here, but he's settled in like one of the crew.
His mom, Ebony, growls at him at feeding time. It's kind of funny, because our dogs have food down almost constantly, share bowls, and the only time Ebony ever growled at anyone for eating alongside of her was when she was ready for her puppies to get out of her dish and find new homes. But she growls that low growl every time I fill a dish, telling him to back off. Otherwise they get along great.
His sister, (Ebony's daughter from another litter, different father), thinks he's great fun to play with.
Wonder hasn't cuddled up with him quite like she used to, but they're getting there.
So, imagine my surprise to find him rolling around on the floor beside Boomer.
Boomer does not have a cat at his new house, and was not interested in playing with Lucky. So Lucky just sat and stared at him.
He's a lot like his dad. It's hard to see it every day.
His long, lean body. Curly black fur. The white patch on his chest.
The way he barks when someone comes in. Not really aggressive, but a very clear warning, that you don't belong here.
The way he plays with the other dogs. He's the biggest, and the only male, but he totally lets them be dominant.
The way he climbs up on the couch or bed slowly, front first, and then dragging his rear end up behind him. No jumping.
The way he stretches his huge awkward self out in the middle of a room, in the way, and makes everyone walk around him.
The howling. I didn't even realize I missed the howling until I heard him. Waldo was part husky. The girls don't howl.
The way he just loves to be outside. All of the time. Even at -16°C. The girls rush out, do their business, and rush back in. Waldo loved to be outside.
The way he eats his veggies. He likes potatoes, beans, and apples. He took a carrot, but then didn't seem to know what to do with it. Waldo ate everything, but he really loved a good carrot. Especially one earned in the pasture by utter cuteness when he knew darned well those carrots were supposed to be barn critter treats.
The way he lays down with his back legs tucked up tight, like a rabbit ready to pounce.
He's a lot like his mom, too. He has her face. He must scratch and rearrange the blankets before he lays down. He must squeeze in front of the other dogs, under your arm, 'pet me first!' The way he wakes me up because he needs to go pee!
And on top of all that, yesterday one of the ducks was out in the yard alone. He was way out of reach. He went running. But he didn't pounce on it and kill it. He just stopped and sniffed and nudged it, and looked back at me as if to say this isn't supposed to be here.
It's been a pleasure and a curse. He is absolutely great. And hopefully he will soon realize that he has work to do and get the job done. He is exactly what I want, and I am very excited for the future.
But I am also crying every day again. I miss my boy. It hurts to see him every day, but just not quite. I miss my Waldo.
