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Age: 8 Years Sex: Male Weight: 11-25 lbs
|Home:Holland, MI ||[I have a diary!] |
Leave a bone for Charlie
Dogster stats for Charlie
11 times 38
Spare Parts, Lumpy, Mr. Man, Little Big Stuff, Chuck, Chuckster, Charles
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|-mutt||-pound dog||-service dog |
June 1st 2004
Other Dogs, Running Fast, Wrassling, Snoozing, Training, Destroying Things That Do Not Belong To Me
Boredom, Lack of Attention, Mother Embarrassing Me In Front Of My Friends By Asking Me To Do Infantile Tricks That Insult My Intellect
Charlie Ball -- A Squeaky Ball, Chicken-flavored Nylabones, Unstuffing and de-squeaking anything stuffed and squeaky
Peanut Butter, Stinky Cheeses, Bits of hot dog, CHICKEN
Woods, Fields, Streams, Beach
We were visiting a doggie gift store that hosts dogs from the local shelter on the weekends. I visited all the other dogs, but missed seeing him, because he was small and kept behind the counter with the staff. My husband told me about him after we left and thought we should circle back, because he knew I'd melt over this dog. And it was Valentine's Day. And we'd been blue for a long time. We had no business -- were coping with two ill parents-- adopting him at the time we did, when our lives were so hectic. But we had lost our beloved Bobbie Jean a few months before, and we just needed help lightening our hearts. We don't know Charlie's whole history, but he was 9 months old and had just 10 days left in this world at the shelter. He'd been placed twice before and returned and was living with a wonderful foster family. First people didn't like the sound of his voice. Second people couldn't figure out how to make him stop jumping. Well... he doesn't bark and he doesn't jump and he graduated from his obedience class as class valedictorian. Because he's a genius. Sorry to say it, but we may as well just have out with it. Charlie is a genius.
He's terrified of parked cars. Sloooowwwly getting him over a deep anxiety over car rides that had him puking with every trip. Poor guy. He's getting much better with the help of a terrific day camp for dogs and lots of short trips to interesting and fun places.
He's still a little hand shy and guy shy.
Very Jack Russell in his play and very Beagle in his ability to snooze much of the day.
Loves dogs. Any dogs. All dogs. When there's a playful dog in the house, humans cease to exist.
The Groups I'm In:
Furry Friends of West Michigan
I've Been On Dogster Since:
|June 7th 2005
||More than 7 years!
Rosette, Star and Special Gift History
See all my Pup Pals
See all my Pup Pals
June 10th 2005 2:05 pm
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It's useless to dwell on the past. It is. But because this is my first entry I shall attempt to -- briefly, so briefly -- summarize the events of my life that brought me to Dogster a diminished, broken, hapless, flinching dog. Not to say tragic. I had averted tragedy through plain dumb luck, having been saved from The Shot on the whim of my rather-too-eager and worrisome people. (What they lack in intellect they make up in a seemingly endless supply of peanut butter, and though I may not sound so, nor let on to them, I am and will remain eternally grateful of their intervention. That fact and a few other lovely aspects of their home and life give me leave to tolerate their endless whining and fussing and --shudder-- kissing.)
I don't remember much of my life previous to three months of age. I should. I have tried. But I don't. It is all blur. My first memories are of the pound. Cages and cold floors, various food. All of that easily tolerated for the great companionship of a great many wonderful fellows. Large dogs and small. Brave dogs and fey dogs. Dogs of great wit and little wisdom. They were all my friends. They would come and go. People came and went too. Sometimes they took me for a walk. And then one day, one of them took me home.
It didn't -- ah -- take. I couldn't communicate with these people, and when I tried, they would plug their ears. I was soon returned to the pound, something scribbled in my file, heads shaking. It took longer, much longer, for my next chance to leave with people. These people had a very much smaller person in tow. She wobbled a lot, and actually wasn't much taller than me when I would stand on my back legs. i liked to demonstrate this by standing with my paws on her shoulders. Okay, so sometimes she fell over . And clearly she didn't know how to nip. I tried to show her. She wasn't -- bright about that. Couldn't ever get the hang of it. Her parents probably thought I was too intimidating a teacher, so back to the pound.
I was starting to get a complex. Starting to feel unlovable. Starting to prefer dogs to people. Much more shaking of heads, more things scribbled in my file.
It seemed I couldn't please anyone. I received a sentence. If I couldn't find a place in this world, or someone to pronounce me lovable, I would have to leave the world altogether. As dramatic as that sounds, you must know that in my mental state, the sentence didn't seem harsh at all.
I'll shorten the story to say the people who finally came to collect me are quite unremarkable. They are middle-aged people, who have had a few dogs. I have an older brother, a 9-year-old Clumber. A good fellow and wise, but not terribly mobile. Still, he's good for a short romp and some conversation now and then, and there are almost always interesting things hanging in his fur for me to investigate.
We have had some schooling, which I enjoy intensely. My female person is a bit slow for her part of it, but I am patient. I may need to take her to more classes. As many as she can tolerate, I think. Wish me luck with that. Well, school, finally, gave me the opportunity to prove my mettle. I was able to show my people and anyone who would watch that I am more than capable of settling into a person's house, thankyouverymuch.
So I am here, it seems, for the duration. But still, I have been haunted by my past. Feeling something missing. Pride? Self-esteem? Are dogs allowed these concerns?
And then mother (I have taken to calling her that. It gets quite a sweet response from her.) introduced me to Dogster. I was immediately taken with the truth of it: there are many dogs who, like me, have been saved in the nick of time by some person or other. My story is unremarkable. It is actually rather normal here at Dogster. Sad, but not uncommon.
Suddenly I didn't feel quite so awkward. Especially when I met these dogs online. These are not unlovable dogs. Here I see pound dogs who are clearly noble, wise, funny, intelligent. Dogs with great potential unrecognized and unrealized. Dogs like me.
Next, for fun, I used the Advanced Search feature to see if by chance there might be more Beagle/Jack Russell dogs about. I don't know what I expected, but I didn't expect to find MORE THAN 90 Jack Reagles or Bussells in the house. I found doppelgangers, plenty of them, and invited them to play.
And they came.
I have found my pride and my own breed, friends, and companions-at-arms here at Dogster. I feel like a whole dog. I do.
Now if I could just teach mother not to fondle my ears while I'm trying to sleep. Please, if you have ideas about that, write to me, will you? I could use all the advice I can get.
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