"Riding In STYLE! in my Dogster Wagon for Bark In The Park--a fund-raising walk for the Anti-Cruelty Society of Chicago! I borrow Patty's neat hat for this pic, but Lucy was too fascinated by Lake Michigan!"
Nicknames: FuzzyButt, UggyMug, Shmoosh-Moosh, Winstie, Baby, Puppy, Little Man, WoolyBully, Chachi, Piggy, Piglet, Big-i-da Pig-i-da, Droolmeister General
Gotcha Date: March 27th 2004
Birthday: February 21st 1997
Likes: I liked to bother my GoldenRetriever brother, Remo the Red. I used to bother Gipper, another Golden, at my Moline house. He was real easy to bully...get it? Bully? Ok, so not so funny sounding, but great fun for me...
Pet-Peeves: Getting my eyes & nasal folds cleaned. I know, Mum had to do it. And I was luckier than some of my Bulldog buddies... they have to get their tail folds cleaned... can you say EEEEEEEWWWWWW?
Favorite Toy: I could hold my soccer ball in my mouth...can you do that? My Moline Mommy drove all the way to Chgo to bring me my soccer ball. Any tug toy was lots of fun...I'd just clamp my superjaws down and Dad could actually pick me up by the toy...weeeee.
Favorite Food: I really liked french fries, and whatever morning coffee Dad left for me.
Favorite Walk: Oak Lawn Nature Preserve--the short loop, of course. Remo the Red just wanted to sniff & sniff & sniff...what's the deal? I couldn't smell anything with this thing they call a nose...
Best Tricks: I could blow air out of the side of my mouth to make this neat fpppt-fpppt-fpppt-fpppt sound with my flappy jowls. I did that instead of the old boring sigh sounds that Remo would make.
Arrival Story: I was an HONORARY GOLDEN RETRIEVER--honest! Mum and Dad got me while doing a Golden Retriever retrieval...hee hee! My Chgo Mum was something called a volunteer Transport driver for a Golden Retriever rescue. She drove 217 miles to pick up my Golden roommate Gipper & take him to his new home. My Moline Mommy told her that she hadn't heard from Bulldog rescue and I had been in a crate in a friend's basement for weeks. My Chgo Mum & Dad had always wanted a Bulldog since they were dating back in 1973. They never found one available for adoption when they had a "vacancy". So, we drove Gipper to his new home and I got to go live with my new Mum & Dad in ChiTown. Mum tells people they took me into their home and hearts. awwwwwww...
Bio: An interesting footnote...guess what I found out when Mum went on a Bulldog website to find out how to care for me? The BD rescue person e-mailed Mum! Small world! This is really unbelievable... turns out my grandfather is Judy Johannsen's Ch. Megas Chillicothe Cowboy. He took best of breed at Westminster in 1993 and an Award of Merit in 1994! There is picture of Gramps in my Dogster Plus photo album. I have his eyes, ears and stance-- but he doesn't have my "stunning" chin!
with Burt, my Chicago Crew
"replacement" on Earth.
I was born on Feb. 21, 1997.
Burt was born on Feb. 21, 2006.
How about THAT for a co-inky-dink???
Today Burt is 7 years old,
and I'm celebrating 16 years.
Please have a carob PupCake
on both of us! And a side helping of
A wise man once said "When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight". We choose to remember the day you came into our lives, not the terrible day when you left us...
My mind drifts back to when we got you. Dad and I had driven across the state of Illinois to Moline to pick up your roommate, Gipper, and bring him back to Chicago. He was going into an As Good as Gold--Golden Retriever Rescue of Northern Illinois foster home. While we were filling out the paperwork and Dad was walking Gipper around the driveway, the lady said "do you know anyone who would want a Bulldog"?
To say we were stunned would be an understatement. Your Dad had wanted a Bulldog for years--since 1973--but we could never find one up for adoption when we had a "vacancy". We followed the lady to her friend's house, where you had been kept in a crate in the basement for three months. I remember sitting on the steps leading down to the drive-way of the split-level house. The garage door opened, and there you were.
You waddled your special waddle with all your swagger and attitude over to a large landscaping rock--and watered it! Then, as if an afterthought, you glanced over and saw us. You casually shuffled over on those massive paws. You leaned in, sniffed us both, snorted, and then walked away as if to tell us we were of no consequence to you.
Fast forward. The strangest thing has happened. You have become my baby. My puppy. My Winstie. Your Dad, who wanted the bulldog, has had to settle for whatever attention you bestow on him when I'm not around. When I am here, you are my shadow. You don't have to be right next to me--but you have to be able to see me. Then you are content. And so am I.
When we adopted you, you were seven years old, already a senior citizen by Bulldog standards. I think the lady thought she was sending you off with us to die. But we were blessed. We had four and a half years together, though the last year and a half was rough, courtesy of Nutro and Menu Foods. But you beat them. You survived.
Oh, how I would give anything to cuddle with you again on "your" couch. Feel your big tongue wash my face--you never did anything as simple as a "lick". To stroke your so very soft and unbulldog-like fur. To plant a kiss on the brown spot on the top of your head--the spot where the angel kissed you before you were born. To scritch your ears and scratch your fuzzy butt. To hear you lay down in the doorway and start to snore.
I hope somewhere, somehow, you know how much you were loved, and are loved. I miss you so, sweet bully boy. And I thank you for all the wonderful memories that I'll cherish forever.
...this journey is not without pain. Like all paths of true love, the pain is part of loving. For as surely as the sun sets, one day your dear animal companion will follow a trail you cannot yet go down. And you will have to find the strength and love to let them go. A pet's time on earth is far too short - especially for those that love them. We borrow them, really, just for awhile, and during these brief years they are generous enough to give us all their love, every inch of their spirit and heart, until one day there is nothing left.
The cat that only yesterday was a kitten is all too soon old and frail and sleeping in the sun. The young pup of boundless energy wakes up stiff and lame, the muzzle now gray. Deep down we somehow always knew that this journey would end. We knew that if we gave our hearts they would be broken. But give them we must for it is all they ask in return.
When the time comes, and the road curves ahead to a place we cannot see, we give one final gift and let them run on ahead - young and whole once more.
"Godspeed, good friend," we say, until our journey comes full circle and our paths cross again.