April 20th 2010 4:44 pm
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A quick explaination of the military terms in the entry. Being prior service myself, I've always thought that Jack Russells would make excellent Marines. They are tough, faithful, handsome, and a good one to have by your side in a fight. But to go on with the story.
The day after Thanksgiving, will always be a special day of Thanksgiving for us.
Two years ago on that day, I loaded up the old yellow jeep with two dog crates, picked up Cpl Abbott , my male Jack Russell, put him in the front seat and we headed up IH 10 to Fredericksburg TX. Dave and I had discussed getting another dog after our old lady Race had crossed to the Rainbow Bridge to be with her adopted daughter, Bonnie. I'd been looking for a little girlfriend for Abbott since he'd let it be known that he wanted a new partner as Firebase Cole was lonely when both of us human types were at work. Dave had been okay with the idea, but he had commitments on that Thanksgiving Friday and I didn't want to wait another week to go check out a likely candidate.
I had been scanning Pet finders and found a sad looking little girl pup up at the Hill Country SPCA. She had caught my eye as she was sitting in a corner of a cinder block run looking up at the camera. I had called the previous week and inquired about her. The lady I spoke too was very encouraging when she found out that I had owned terriers before, especially Jack Russells. She said that they really wanted to place this one with an 'experienced' terrier owner. I had to laugh; there is no one knowledgeable enough to be considered an all-knowing terrier person.
But off we went on a beautiful fall morning none the less. The radio was broken so Abbott and I sang together as we drove. I say we sang together, because he either really likes my singing or he really hates it as we howl together enthusiastically whenever the opportunity presents itself. Finally, several hours later, we pull into the parking lot of the HCSPCA in beautiful downtown Fredericksburg.
I left Abbott in the jeep as I went in to introduce myself to the staff. Several nice ladies greeted me and one gal took me to the back to see the little girl. She was just finishing her bath and was being towel dried. They said she was afraid of the hairdryer and it was 'easier on everyone' to do it like this. I spoke to the pretty little dog softly and she sniffed my hand then turned away to look longingly out the window.
As I was talking to my main hostess, I was told of Bridget's capture by a farmer in his chicken coop after a night of homicidal mania and her being brought in to their facility. Then I found out that she had already been adopted once by a lady and her daughter but been brought back when she 'ripped the heads off of some Barbie Dolls'. She hoped that this would not be a problem with me.
I informed her that I had not a Barbie doll in the house, and I had ripped a few heads off myself when I was younger.
At this point, I decided that we needed to get Abbott involved in the experience to find out if either of them had head ripping aspirations for the other. I had not expected this part of the trip to be nearly as big a deal as it turned out being.
When I brought Abbott into the SPCA, my poor boy had what psychiatrists often refer to as an emotional catharsis. He immediately 'flashed back' to his own experience in the Austin City Pound. I had thought that after a year and several months in our home the boy would have been more secure, evidently NOT.
My poor little anxious Marine proceeded to crawl up my leg with the most imploring cries and whines an old Sergeant had ever heard. I immediately picked him up and started consoling him, promising him that he WOULD be going home with me and that we were here for HIS benefit trying to find him a proper companion. However, evidently Abbott was convinced that I was bringing him as a trade off, not as an interested family member.
Finally, we got all concerned parties to the outside patio meet and greet area. Bridget was turned loose and I deposited Abbott on the ground. They ran in opposite directions, he to my lap and she to the wall to search for an escape route. After much coaxing, I convinced Abbott to come over and introduce himself. After several minutes of suspicious sniffing, the two dogs decided that they would generally ignore each other. That is, except when she got too close to me and my little bodyguard would growl softly under his breath. This totally dissuaded her from even attempting to be friendly.
When I reentered the main building, I could tell that all the nice ladies had been spying on us on the patio. They all looked disappointed in what they had observed. As I carried Abbott in, one of the young workers went out to catch Bridget.
I went ahead and took the boy back out to the jeep and secured him in one of the dog crates. He was still very subdued and looked unhappy at being put up in the box. When I reentered the office area the girl had taken Bridget back to her cell and everyone looked very sad.
I started the discussion and told them that I understood that the little one had lived a very tough life and was probably feeling like a wild jackrabbit. I was sure that her murderous rampage through Barbie land had gotten her some repercussions of the violent kind and she certainly had no reason to trust me or my growling sentinel.
The lady I was speaking to seemed to brighten up a bit and then she made me an offer. I know that she didn't know me very well because it was pretty much a done deal. Why? Cause I'm a sucker for a sad story and this little one had touched my heart. I figured she'd been bought, ignored, thrown away, trapped, put in jail, given to an idiot, beaten, returned to jail and totally misunderstood for most of her 10 months of life. The offer I was made? Why didn't I take the shy child home with me for a week? I could write them a check and she swore that she would hold it for seven days until we could see how things would work out between us.
So, I pulled out my check book and wrote the bill. The girl brought Bridget up from the cell block and they proceeded to make much of her and tried to get her to promise to be good and mind her manners and not to kill anything in the near future. They gave me dog kibble, a collar, a leash and all their good wishes. I picked up my new little waif and took her out to the jeep.
Abbott was all wiggly and happy to see me until he saw Bridget in my arms. He glared at her balefully and bared his teeth. I fussed at him and told him to be nice to his new sister. He looked confused and seemed to regard her with a new curiosity. I put her in the other crate and turned the metal barred doors to face each other and left a few inches to separate them so there would be not physical contact. But they could look and smell all the way home.
Now, Fredericksburg has a relatively famous store that specializes in jelly/jam/picante/sauce varieties from sweet to hot all made with local produce. And I couldn't pass up a chance to go through their showroom. So when I passed the storefront, I pulled into the shade tree lined parking lot. I made sure everything was secure with the pups and then entered the establishment.
I spent about 30 minutes tasting samples and talking to the manager then went outside with my finds. I had picked up some jerky so the babies wouldn't feel neglected and Abbott received his goodie with enthusiasm. Bridget sniffed hers suspiciously as if trying to figure out what I was trying to put over on her.
I got back into the car and headed for home. Abbott and I started another rousing chorus of Home Home On The Range and Bridget just curled up in a ball and tried to sleep through our caterwauling.
When we finally got home I took both the dogs out of the crates and we went to the back yard. I kept Bridget on a leash to prevent any escape attempts. The pups relieved themselves and Abbott ran around happily realizing that he had indeed returned home and I hadn't really wanted to trade him in for a longer legged model. He also hadn't eaten all day and he knew that dinner time was always before 5 PM for housebreaking issues.
We went back in and I turned the dogs loose in the house so I could bring in the crates. Once that was accomplished, I went to the refrigerator and removed two fresh, fat, moist, succulent, raw chicken hindquarters. Abbott was dancing for joy and even the shy Miss Bridget looked interested. Evidently, she had not been impressed with the food at the shelter after feasting on the good farmer’s laying hens.
I put a chicken leg in each crate and Abbot bolted into his box, hungry after a long day. Bridget sniffed suspiciously at the cage, the same one that she'd ridden home in, and finally acquiesced to go inside. When she realized that the meat was hers, and no one else’s, she immediately started to chow down with a dainty enthusiasm. I left them alone for 30 minutes and when I returned, all the food was long gone.
When they were released from the crates, Abbott led the way to the inside water dish and his new sister followed him. She waited politely until he'd finished then she drank her fill.
I lay down on the couch and Abbott got up next to me in his regular corner and fell asleep. Bridget jumped up on the love seat and lay quietly, watching me intently with her dark eyes. We stayed like that for several hours, she only moving when one of us did and often to jump down off the sofa as if to flee into another part of the house.
Later that night, when we went to bed, I secured her in the crate for the night not sure of her housebreaking habits. Abbott went over and sniffed noses as if to say goodnight and she allowed me to stroke her little face. She very tentatively licked my fingers as I withdrew my hand. Then she curled up on the pillow and went quietly to sleep.
Abbott and I looked at each other and nodded. She was a keeper.
Semper Fi.
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