A Fish Called Boogie
Boogie is a K Kid at the French Bulldog Village. He’s a special needs French Bulldog who has regular hydrotherapy to help him regain the use of his legs.
Read more about Boogie here, or share his story via the FBV Sprout –
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Think happy thoughts for Fluffy
Fluffy says “Don’t hate me because I’m bee-ooo-tiful”
Poor little Fluffy. She might not be the prettiest dog on the block, but didn’t your momma teach you that pretty comes from what’s on the inside? And this girl’s got a pretty nature that shines on through, in spite of all the trauma she’s experienced in her life.
A puppy mill rescue, Fluffy (now known as “Peaches”) came to rescue with a myriad of health issues, most baffling of which was – her poor little bum was sewn shut, apparently to deal with her diahrrea! Good grief!
There’s suspicion it was done as a shoddy attempt to correct a rectal prolapse, but no one knows for sure, and Fluffy isn’t talking.
She still has some leaky bum issues, and is getting paranoid about anyone coming up behind her, because she is (quite understandably!) getting tired of being swiped with baby wipes every two minutes. Her poor little bottom is still red and sore, in spite of the special diet and special care her foster mom is putting into her.
Still, she’s a Frenchie – sunny natured, happy to be alive and loved, and adoring every pat and kiss she gets. You can read her latest updates over on the French Bulldog Village Blog.
Is there anything more resilient than the heart of a rescue dog? No matter the beatings, no matter the neglect, no matter the horrific abuse, time and time again we find that underneath it all there’s a heart that still wants – desperately – someone to love.
Adopting, fostering or even just supporting a rescue dog isn’t something you do because it’s ‘noble’ – you do it because it’s one way to show these dogs that their resiliency in the face of horror, their willingness to try once more to love us, isn’t misplaced. It’s how we show them that, yes – there is goodness in the world.
Someone once said to me “Rescuing a dog is like picking up some dull, dirt encrusted rock, only to buff it up and find that it’s actually a priceless diamond. Under all their filth and neglect, someone’s priceless new best friend is hiding”.
Go find your own priceless new best friend, over on the French Bulldog Village. Yes, I’ve mentioned them before – but now I’m mentioning them again.
They do good works, every day – placing stray “French Bulldog mixed with who knows what” mixes, adopting out puppy mill retirees with no questions asked, helping breeders place their dogs into great retirement homes, and staying out of the politics of “Should we help that person?”, because they know that what matters is the dogs.
They’re also the home to the Karen Krings Memorial Fund – a fund dedicated to helping special needs French Bulldogs in the care of rescue organizations.
Check them out, and toss them a few bucks, even if you can’t adopt one of those adorable little faces.
Oh, and check out FBV founder Charlotte Creeley’s new blog – attorney stuff, dogs, dog training, pugs and other bits and pieces. She’s a great writer, and a true supporter of French Bulldog welfare.
It's never enough time…
I have a number of things to write about, since a lot has happened in the two weeks I’ve been off line, but nothing more important that this – we have lost Ellie, our special girl, and the light of Sean’s life.
Ellie was a special dog from the very beginning. An illness during the final stage of Sailor’s pregnancy left Ellie somewhat addled at birth. She was small, and had a hard time thriving. Barb hung in there, though, and Ellie made it through well enough for us to go and pick her up. Sean was ambivalent – he’d never had a dog of his own before, and Tessa was the first one he’d ever lived with. He was a cat person, and wasn’t sure what to make of the indifferent little brindle mite who refused to even come over and sniff his hand.
During the seven hour drive home, Ellie huddled in the back of her crate glaring at us, and Sean asked me mildly “Is she ever going to come near us?”. I explained that some dogs need more patience than others, and shortly after we arrived home, he made it his goal to get Ellie to love him.
Unlike other French Bulldogs, Ellie was indifferent towards affection. She loved Tessa, staying close to her and sleeping curled into her side. People were a different story. She barely tolerated Sean and I, and would skitter away from us if we tried to pet her. We felt like negligent pet owners, and laughed it off when she ran wide circles around anyone who approached her at the dog park. “She’s just not that in to people” we’d explain. Ellie had a fine sense of dignity, and never once willingly let a stranger pat her on the head. She insisted on her own personal space, and we learned to let her sit her own limits on interaction.
Eventually, Ellie learned to love us, by which time we, of course, were head over heels about her. She’s sidle up to you and butt your hand with her head, which meant “Scratch my ears”. She’d perch on your lap, tentatively, never settling down enough to really get comfortable. Still, she loved us, in her own way.
We knew she wasn’t going to be with us for forever. We even knew she wasn’t going to be with us for long. What we didn’t realize is that even the knowing of that doesn’t prepare you for the loss you feel when they go. Logic can tell you that time is short, but our hearts don’t rely on logic, and there just wasn’t enough time with Ellie.
There’s never enough time.
Bullmarket Absolut Elliemental
June 21st, 2004 – April 11th, 2008