The Smartest MF
It has been a year, March 11th, since I lost the first dog I called legally mine. There’s something different about the dogs you grow up with who belong to your parents versus your own dog. Petey was my first, and now, Rui, is my second. I dithered for a long time about whether to get someone new. I’d be ready to fill out the adoption paperwork only to decide against it. A whole 12 months of that.
Finally, a friend sent me the picture above from Petfinder. Barry Sanders, one of seven, two of his siblings were lucky or cursed, depending on the reader’s tastes, with the names Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift. Those poor souls.
His mother was a stray, caught and signed up for a spay before the veterinary clinic realized she was pregnant. Surprisingly, she wasn’t given a forced abort, an option some shelters choose. So, Rui, aka Barry Sanders, is a rescue by proxy. However, true to form with rescues, there are discrepancies in his “heartwarming story.” His mother was a stray but somehow it’s known how many pounds her last litter grew to be. Barry Sanders was nine weeks when I picked him up on March 23rd, but his size and teeth certainly pointed to him being younger, possibly seven and a half or eight weeks old.
March 23rd, 2024: Since bringing him home, we promptly changed his name to Rui. The fosterer said he was rather quick to answer to Barry. And well, he was rather quick to answer to Rui too. He hated the rain, the foster told us. I couldn’t help but turn to the lady’s window, observing the monsoon we were experiencing outside that day. We drove over 200 miles west, driving into the rain/snow and ice nor’easter hitting us and then we drove back east in time for the nor’easter to catch up to us. The poor bastard was going to have to learn real quick to be tolerant of the sky pissing on us. It took six tries for him to finally pee when we got home. The glares of who-the-hell-are-you, plus the WTF’s, his tiny bladder finally followed Nature’s direction and he peed, huddled under a leafy Rhododendron. It didn’t do much to avoid the wet, cold but his thought process was ingenious for someone so young. A+ for critical thinking.
He slept through the night, amazing for someone so young and I started the training the next day. I’ve preached one too many times “dogs are a product of their owners.” I didn’t need that biting me in the ass. However, I don’t expect a robot. Animals should have their own personalities to shine, within reason. The world is not animal friendly. Safe guards should be in place for them to live relatively happy, normal lives.
Before anyone jumps on me: That “e-collar Rui is wearing” is Vibrate Only.
June 4th, 2024: Two months in, it’s certainly been an interesting ride. Rui truly is a smart MF. He’s written down in his paperwork as a Heeler/Aussie X with Boxer thrown in there somewhere; though the older he gets the more he looks like a Basenji mix. He’s a thinker. If you leave him alone, sure as shit, he will find something to get into. No toy is too far from his reach. He proved that the day he jumped on top of his crate to reach the top of his housemate, Dea’s crate for the squeaky toy. While he’s learned hunger strikes get him no where when he doesn’t want to eat his food, he does better with a rotational diet; because quite frankly his thought process has to be: WHY DO I EAT THE SAME DAMN THING EVERY DAY, BUT YOU HUMANS HAVE A ROTATIONAL DIET??
A valid question, really. I restarted my subscription to Farmer’s Dog, figuring that’ll help me out with him not wanting his kibble. So far, it’s worked. Besides, I love going to debt for the eating habits of my dog. Why not.
He loves to meet people. He’s that obnoxious greeter. I’m still trying to break him of that. He’s learning. You have to sit before someone can touch you. Sorry, not sorry.
Reina and Dea tolerate him. Dea, especially, is getting a dose of what it’s like to be harassed by a pain in the ass. She officially moved on from the PIA title the moment it was bestowed upon Rui. She plays with him more than Reina and is quick to discipline which he takes well. And he’ll cuddle with Reina, or at least try to. She generally moves away. “Get away from me, peasant.”
It’s been an interesting three months for sure. I’m still getting used to a dog who can hear everything. I was able to “get one over” on Petey a lot due to his visual/hearing impairment. Now, I have someone who can hear a fart in CA. Oh, woe to me.
Anyhoo: I’ll stop while I’m ahead. Need to save material for future articles.
