Settling In
It happened just yesterday. There I was, happily typing away on my book, when I noticed Butch was doing something special. Butch, our little rescue wiener dog, was happily chewing on a pencil. I took it away, of course. I don’t want him to get splinters! But before I did that I had to smile. See, Butch was finally becoming a dog.
I’ve had dogs all my life. A pair of Yorkshire terriers when I was little, Irish setters when I was a teen. Since I’ve been married, we’ve had a beagle and a miniature dachshund named Suzy. And, then, of course, we’ve helped out with Rudy, my son’s bulldog/beagle mix. They’ve all been, well, dog-like. They barked at UPS men. They’ve eaten shoes and toilet paper rolls and dug in the trash when no one was looking. We’ve bought more raw hides, squeaky toys, and tennis balls than I can count.
Maybe it’s because we didn’t train them all that well? Maybe I just have a high tolerance for doggy-behavior? Or that I kind of like chaos? Whatever the reason, we were used to dogs being…dogs.
And then we got Butch.
Butch is five years old and we got him from Dachshund Rescue of Ohio. When the representative brought over two dogs for us to see, one grabbed a squeaky toy, took it to a corner of the room, and growled at us every time we tried to get near him. Butch? He hopped up on the couch next to my husband and watched the football game.
Obviously, he was the dog for us!
Since then, Butch has settled in nicely, and is as sweet as can be. But he’s been decidedly un-dog-like. He ran from squeaky toys. He looked at his little rawhide bones in confusion. He never barked. When Suzy burrowed under a blanket, he looked very concerned! He doesn’t beg for food, and won’t even walk out the door unless he is leashed.
We loved him right away. But, well, we were a little concerned. See, Butch was once an elderly lady’s dog…right until she went into the nursing home and he went to the shelter. We’re no dog psychologists, but we started thinking that poor Butch had never really had the opportunity to be a silly wiener dog.
We think Suzy, our 11 year old dachshund, felt the same way. From Day 1, she’s been nudging him to be like her. After two weeks, he started burrowing. After the first month, when she barked at the UPS man at the door, he, too, gave a little timid bark. And though the ‘squeakers’ in squeaky toys still scare him, he’s recently started to carry around the stuffed toys that Suzy has already destroyed.
That’s why, when he hopped off his little bed in my office, found a dropped pencil, then started happily chewing, tail wagging fast enough to beat the band, I was kind of happy.
It’s now obvious that Butch has become a part of our family. And the best part? He’s still always up for another football game. The minute he hears one on tv, he hops right on my husband’s lap.
Which makes me think he likes us, too.
Butch’s Pencil
