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I Am Not Alone

I Found My Pride at Dogster

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.