Puck

Today's blog entry has almost nothing to do with my writing (that being said, Puck does help me write and edit my work...although he is overly fond of simple sentences)...I simply felt like writing a short piece to go along with some pictures of our new rescue-dog, Puck.

[image error] Puck on the day that we brought him home...not entirely trusting us
Puck came to live with us shortly after our beagle Cedar died.


He had been waiting at the Tri-Lakes Humane Society fror a new home for a while because he has a checkered past.  He was arrested, along with the dog he was living with, for menacing and biting someone.  He has lots of scarring on his body, some of which look like they're from shotgun pellets; he's terrified beyond reason (literally) by loud noises (gunshots, champagne corks, doors slamming, thunder).

Puck (far left) posing with us for our Xmas picture...still not fully sureWhen we took him to the vet for his first visit, we were in for a number of surprises.  They knew him from his previous life, when he had come to them in grave condition from having his back end run over and crushed in a dog v. vehicle interaction.  He started shaking and crying before we got in the door, and growled and snapped at the vet-techs who wanted to take his temp and clip his nails and give him a shot...he had to be knocked out before they could touch him.

He's a sweet boy, but a bit broken.  He loves us, is cuddly and affectionate with everyone in our family, but there's always fear at the edge of his consciousness...fear of being hurt, hit, harassed and hurled back into a tiny cage if we decide he's not worth it (we won't, but how can he know that?).

Easter harassment that he put up with...because he loves usHe gets scared and/or lonely and/or bored in the middle of the night, most nights, and will come into our bedroom to wake me up with a pat or a kiss or a whine.  He doesn't need food or water or a chance to pee (although he will always take the opportunity to eat and run outside for a minute)...he just wants to talk.

 So I've gotten into the habit of getting up in the dark to cuddle with him on the couch for a bit (those who know me know that I'm a mostly useless zombie between the hours of 10pm and 3am) and then either go back to bed or spend the rest of the night on the couch with Puck.  I'm not sleeping as well as I'd like, but he needs me.

Puck working on his tan on our deckPuck's settled into our home about as well as he's going to, and we're used to him and his foibles.  He's not perfect by any means, but none of us in this house in the woods are in any position to throw stones; we're hiding (and hidden) from the rest of the world on purpose.

The UPS-guy has a relationship with Miles (our other lab rescue, who loves Puck) involving some barking and some cookies and sometimes Miles climbs into the back of the truck to help Craig in finding the right box...Puck doesn't understand the rules of this social contract...he barks and cowers and suspects poisoned cookies and thinks that UPS is going to steal Miles.

Miles (left) and Puck (right) napping on the couchHe's ours, we're his, none of us perfect (or even close).  We know the sore spots on his back and butt from earlier injuries, and avoid them.  He loves us (which at the end of the day is his only defined duty) and trusts us the best he can...his particular needs and damage are a part of what endear him to us.

Puck will never be easy, but he will always be ours!

Thanks,

Jamie