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.