Last night on a whim I picked up a bright pink hard rubber ball that our friend Pam Kuhn of Interiors in Green and her dog Gabby (a dog I rescued 10 years ago) donated to Bruno and tossed it across the room. Bruno actually chased it and brought it back to me! This is completely new behavior. Thus far he has enjoyed his rawhide bones (reducing them to limp noodles before consuming) and chilling. Our little dog Greta, by way of comparison, plays like a maniac and is especially fond of her squeaky toys which Bruno has showed no intererst in. Jay and I are thrilled that he is learning to play. We try to imagine what he did before we met him to pass the time and we have only been able to speculate. Until this morning.
We loaded him into the car to head off for his surgery. The car was running and Jay started to scrape the frost off the windows when Bruno suddenly went ballistic, barking and charging at Jay through the glass. I got Bruno out of the car and at a distance so Jay could finish. They had to reaquaint a bit as Bruno seemed uncertain that Jay really was still his friend. He wouldn't get back in the car until we turned off the engine. Then he was fine for the ride.
We remembered that he had barked at Jay's 14 year-old son when he first met him. Bruno was in his crate at that moment. It's the only other time he's showed fear. We think he was confined in some sort of pen or cage and taunted. Jay thinks someone may have been trying to make him mean to become a fighter. We are so happy he won't have to go through that anymore.
We dropped him at Kingsbury Animal Hospital this morning where his surgical team will be taking good care of him. We'll post the results this evening.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Monday, January 29, 2007
Monday evening, January 29
Dr. Clary, Bruno's physician, called today to schedule his surgery for Wednesday. He will be having his eyelids fixed, much to the chagrin of some of us older female homo sapiens on the staff, and his testicles removed, which none of the male homo sapiens on the staff want to discuss. Soon he will be ready for his forever home.
Jay and I got home to find that he had disemboweled one of the cushions in his large crate, but it is no matter since it was the extra cushion and he probably found it annoying, plus they are old outside lounge chair castoffs anyway and won't be missed.
Greta, our pointer/beagle/hound mix family member, adores Bruno and follows him around the yard picking at him until he gives chase. He's very sanguine about the whole thing and never plays too rough. Inside, she has abandoned the squeaky toys she usually loves to sneak around and take his current rawhide bone when he isn't looking. No matter, he finds another one or simply takes it back.
Jay and I are falling in love with him in spite of ourselves. We simply cannot afford to keep him and we know we have to let him go to someone who will love him as much as we do and also afford his care. It's not that his care will be extensive. After his sugery, he will just need lots of dog food, the usual furnishings and toys and regular checkups. Maybe a membership in a dog park. But our budget is maxed out. We know we want to be very selective in his placement. Bruno's forever home will need to have a fenced in yard, a healthy human who can take him on long vigorous walks, maybe another dog (possibly only female, we don't yet know), and a family who will love him but also maintain appropriate boundaries. Bruno is a big guy, loving and loyal, but big. He cannot be allowed to rule the roost or he could become a problem when strangers come around. It's hard to imagine him out of control since currently he barely even notices when someone comes to the door. He does chase our cat (probably Greta's influence) but once when I yelled at him as he headed up the stairs after said cat, he turned tail and wedged himself between my legs scared to death by my outburst.
As I write this, he has settled on a blanket next to the couch where he is worrying at his icky eyes. Just a couple more days, big guy, and your eye troubles will be over.
People are still writing and calling, making contributions and asking after him. After his surgery, shots and medicine are paid for, Jay will figure out if we have any leftover funds from the "Save Bruno" effort and make a contribution to a couple of no-kill shelters. Again, the out-pouring of generosity was amazing in so many ways.
That's it for tonight from the stewards of Bruno.
Jay and I got home to find that he had disemboweled one of the cushions in his large crate, but it is no matter since it was the extra cushion and he probably found it annoying, plus they are old outside lounge chair castoffs anyway and won't be missed.
Greta, our pointer/beagle/hound mix family member, adores Bruno and follows him around the yard picking at him until he gives chase. He's very sanguine about the whole thing and never plays too rough. Inside, she has abandoned the squeaky toys she usually loves to sneak around and take his current rawhide bone when he isn't looking. No matter, he finds another one or simply takes it back.
Jay and I are falling in love with him in spite of ourselves. We simply cannot afford to keep him and we know we have to let him go to someone who will love him as much as we do and also afford his care. It's not that his care will be extensive. After his sugery, he will just need lots of dog food, the usual furnishings and toys and regular checkups. Maybe a membership in a dog park. But our budget is maxed out. We know we want to be very selective in his placement. Bruno's forever home will need to have a fenced in yard, a healthy human who can take him on long vigorous walks, maybe another dog (possibly only female, we don't yet know), and a family who will love him but also maintain appropriate boundaries. Bruno is a big guy, loving and loyal, but big. He cannot be allowed to rule the roost or he could become a problem when strangers come around. It's hard to imagine him out of control since currently he barely even notices when someone comes to the door. He does chase our cat (probably Greta's influence) but once when I yelled at him as he headed up the stairs after said cat, he turned tail and wedged himself between my legs scared to death by my outburst.
As I write this, he has settled on a blanket next to the couch where he is worrying at his icky eyes. Just a couple more days, big guy, and your eye troubles will be over.
People are still writing and calling, making contributions and asking after him. After his surgery, shots and medicine are paid for, Jay will figure out if we have any leftover funds from the "Save Bruno" effort and make a contribution to a couple of no-kill shelters. Again, the out-pouring of generosity was amazing in so many ways.
That's it for tonight from the stewards of Bruno.
Big Dog, Small Town
Kris Kleindienst
On Friday, January 19, I was going through computerized inventory records in our executive office suite here at the big store—you know, the room on the lower level with the charmingly moldy stone walls—when I had to run a quick errand. I wrote down the title of the next book in my report to keep my place and trotted upstairs and out the door. I came immediately upon David Rothschild and another man trying to coax an uncertain looking bulldog out of the street. He came up the sidewalk, changed his mind about David, shied away and headed in my direction. Without a thought, I squatted down and called to him.
He had outgrown the filthy collar that was choking him long ago. He was powerfully smelly, his eyes were gummy and irritated, his ribs were beginning to show and he was, as they say, intact. Someone brought a rope to tie to his collar so I could stand up. Booksellers began to appear with dry cat food from our bookstore kitty Spike’s supply and the bulldog chomped it down instantly. A passerby reached into her shopping bag and donated a sample-sized bag of dog food. “He’s American bulldog by the looks of him,” she said. “But with that head, he might have some Mastiff in him.” In other words, he was massive.
Jay and I walked him down the street to Wolfgang’s Pet Stop where they donated a slightly larger collar and some dog biscuits. Various folks made various suggestions about no-kill shelters but on Friday afternoon, calls weren’t being returned and shelters we knew of were full.
Mr. Stinky was relaxing a bit with some food in him and seemed willing to follow us anywhere, although with his squinty, rheumy eyes, he constantly bumped into Jay, who held the rope, nearly knocking him over without even trying. We returned to the store where all work had come to a halt as we gathered around this giant lost smelly canine with jaws of death and Mr. Magoo eyesight. Anne in special orders offered to pay for a check up and Kingsbury Animal Hospital said they’d have a look so we shuttled him to their clinic where he weighed in at 80 pounds. Dr. Clary diagnosed an ear infection, worms and a congenital eye problem known as entropion which could be surgically corrected. Other than that, he had no discernable major illnesses. She offered to address his health problems for a vastly reduced rate. It was up to us to decide what to do.
What to do? There was no question of taking him to a conventional shelter. His breed, eye condition and lack of neutering made him an unlikely candidate for adoption. Jay and I took Mr. Stinky home, borrowed a crate the size of County Jail from a friend, bought some serious dog shampoo and hoped for the best.
What we got was even better than best. Even with the generous offer from Kingsbury Animal Hospital, Bruno, as he prefers to be called, was way out of our league financially. Nor were we sure we could handle a “bully breed.” We were a bit uncertain how you would feel about this, but we decided to send out an email to our Left Bank list asking for help. The response has been overwhelming.
As of this writing, barely a week after Bruno found us, we’ve collected enough money to pay for his surgeries, shots, and medicines. Any excess funds will be donated to a no-kill shelter in the area. Several of you shared stories of rescue dogs in your own families. Many of you forwarded the email to everyone in your workplaces. Advice, funds and even a few offers of possible adoption have poured in. We’ve had generous offers of help from local no-kill shelters. Bruno, the bookstore rescue dog is a celebrity. With any luck at all, he’ll have found his “forever home” by the time the next newsletter comes out.
Meeting Bruno has been an honor. He’s a perfect gentleman most of the time, enjoys our female dog, walks pretty well on a leash, has learned to sit and come. He devours rawhide bones as if they were potato chips. He’s got one blue-white eye and one brown one to match is half and half facial coloring. He has a killer smile. Jay and I will miss him terribly when he moves on. That’s the downside to rescuing dogs—you get to spend time in the dog breath of a powerful spiritual being but eventually you have to say goodbye.
There has been another up-side to meeting Bruno and that’s the outpouring of support from the Left Bank Books community. You have been incredible in your generosity. It took only a few days to raise his medical expenses. We knew we served a great group of people yet your response to Bruno’s plight has been heartening. You may be spread across a thirty mile radius from the bookstore, but you feel like a small town to us, a thoughtful, open-hearted, close-knit community. You have not only saved the life of an amazing, nearly doomed dog, you have given all of us at the store a sense that we are part of something important, something bigger than one stray dog, bigger than “just a bookstore.” Sometimes it takes a visit from an evolved spiritual presence like Bruno to demonstrate what a great community you really are. It may seem corny, but it’s true.
Oh, about the title of the book I stopped at moments before I met Bruno. When I returned to my desk to close out for the day, it was flashing on my computer screen: Big Dog.
On Friday, January 19, I was going through computerized inventory records in our executive office suite here at the big store—you know, the room on the lower level with the charmingly moldy stone walls—when I had to run a quick errand. I wrote down the title of the next book in my report to keep my place and trotted upstairs and out the door. I came immediately upon David Rothschild and another man trying to coax an uncertain looking bulldog out of the street. He came up the sidewalk, changed his mind about David, shied away and headed in my direction. Without a thought, I squatted down and called to him.
He had outgrown the filthy collar that was choking him long ago. He was powerfully smelly, his eyes were gummy and irritated, his ribs were beginning to show and he was, as they say, intact. Someone brought a rope to tie to his collar so I could stand up. Booksellers began to appear with dry cat food from our bookstore kitty Spike’s supply and the bulldog chomped it down instantly. A passerby reached into her shopping bag and donated a sample-sized bag of dog food. “He’s American bulldog by the looks of him,” she said. “But with that head, he might have some Mastiff in him.” In other words, he was massive.
Jay and I walked him down the street to Wolfgang’s Pet Stop where they donated a slightly larger collar and some dog biscuits. Various folks made various suggestions about no-kill shelters but on Friday afternoon, calls weren’t being returned and shelters we knew of were full.
Mr. Stinky was relaxing a bit with some food in him and seemed willing to follow us anywhere, although with his squinty, rheumy eyes, he constantly bumped into Jay, who held the rope, nearly knocking him over without even trying. We returned to the store where all work had come to a halt as we gathered around this giant lost smelly canine with jaws of death and Mr. Magoo eyesight. Anne in special orders offered to pay for a check up and Kingsbury Animal Hospital said they’d have a look so we shuttled him to their clinic where he weighed in at 80 pounds. Dr. Clary diagnosed an ear infection, worms and a congenital eye problem known as entropion which could be surgically corrected. Other than that, he had no discernable major illnesses. She offered to address his health problems for a vastly reduced rate. It was up to us to decide what to do.
What to do? There was no question of taking him to a conventional shelter. His breed, eye condition and lack of neutering made him an unlikely candidate for adoption. Jay and I took Mr. Stinky home, borrowed a crate the size of County Jail from a friend, bought some serious dog shampoo and hoped for the best.
What we got was even better than best. Even with the generous offer from Kingsbury Animal Hospital, Bruno, as he prefers to be called, was way out of our league financially. Nor were we sure we could handle a “bully breed.” We were a bit uncertain how you would feel about this, but we decided to send out an email to our Left Bank list asking for help. The response has been overwhelming.
As of this writing, barely a week after Bruno found us, we’ve collected enough money to pay for his surgeries, shots, and medicines. Any excess funds will be donated to a no-kill shelter in the area. Several of you shared stories of rescue dogs in your own families. Many of you forwarded the email to everyone in your workplaces. Advice, funds and even a few offers of possible adoption have poured in. We’ve had generous offers of help from local no-kill shelters. Bruno, the bookstore rescue dog is a celebrity. With any luck at all, he’ll have found his “forever home” by the time the next newsletter comes out.
Meeting Bruno has been an honor. He’s a perfect gentleman most of the time, enjoys our female dog, walks pretty well on a leash, has learned to sit and come. He devours rawhide bones as if they were potato chips. He’s got one blue-white eye and one brown one to match is half and half facial coloring. He has a killer smile. Jay and I will miss him terribly when he moves on. That’s the downside to rescuing dogs—you get to spend time in the dog breath of a powerful spiritual being but eventually you have to say goodbye.
There has been another up-side to meeting Bruno and that’s the outpouring of support from the Left Bank Books community. You have been incredible in your generosity. It took only a few days to raise his medical expenses. We knew we served a great group of people yet your response to Bruno’s plight has been heartening. You may be spread across a thirty mile radius from the bookstore, but you feel like a small town to us, a thoughtful, open-hearted, close-knit community. You have not only saved the life of an amazing, nearly doomed dog, you have given all of us at the store a sense that we are part of something important, something bigger than one stray dog, bigger than “just a bookstore.” Sometimes it takes a visit from an evolved spiritual presence like Bruno to demonstrate what a great community you really are. It may seem corny, but it’s true.
Oh, about the title of the book I stopped at moments before I met Bruno. When I returned to my desk to close out for the day, it was flashing on my computer screen: Big Dog.
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