Finding Herself

By Linda Grupp Boutin

The first thing Star did when Gary and I returned without Kindu was to examine closely why her brother wasn't with us. A thorough sniffing told her that all we brought in with us was his collar, but no basenji boy. Impossible for me to explain to her, she had been well aware of his illness and that he wasn't doing well. She had taken to cleaning him like he was one of her puppies. At first he objected, but her persistence wore him down and he allowed her to lick his face and keep him clean. 

Star has always been one of our most fastidious basenjis, washing her face after every meal, keeping the floors clean with her own unique style of "vacuuming," trying to wash every bit of the coconut oil lotion off my hands as I let her get away with; the smell is just a bit too much like food as far as she is concerned. She is getting accustomed to being the only dog of the house. She no longer bolts down her food the second it hits the floor. She lingers over breakfast, sometimes not finishing her kibble until it's almost dinnertime.

Star looking backwards trying to convince me to pet her!

She approaches life in her own unique way, quietly, sometimes silently sitting beside me. Then turning those baby brown eyes backwards, reminding me that her ears, tummy, back, paws, face all need good and proper petting. I often wonder how in the world she can turn her neck this way without harming herself in the process. But she manages it on a daily basis. 

She enjoys moving from Gary to me, back to Gary then back to me. She relishes not fighting for the prime position next to our leg on the love seat. But she no longer enjoys long sunbaths on the patio with her best bud, Kindu. She prefers to stay in the house all day long with us, never concerning herself about the comings and goings on Flora Lane. At times Star seems to be completely bewildered having lost her compass in the form of her basenji brother.

We all are learning to live without Kindu, the life of the party. His example about how to enjoy each and every day, rejoice over the falling leaves and the singing birds, and greet every visitor with a loud BAROO. Star's calmness is unnerving  after 7 years with our boisterous boy leading the parade.

So now Gary and my conversations have turned to the subject of adding a 4th member to our pack. Basenji babies are only available in February, so stay tuned. Maybe not in 2016, but certainly by 2017 an addition to the pack is coming. After all, we need Star to train the new puppy about how to behave. Just like Kindu did for her.

Kindu on his puppy leash the first day home, ready to explore the neighborhood.

Solid As a Rock

By Linda Grupp Boutin

So although 2015 has brought more than its fair share of challenges, it also has brought great joy in resiliency. Our basenji boy, Kindu, has put back on 5 of the 9 pounds he lost, his coat is thickening and its reddish glow is returning thanks to the addition of coconut oil to his daily ration. And although he has hogged the majority of our attention, it turns out that our basenji girl, Star, has turned out to be the strongest member of our pack. She has watched our struggles, continued to cuddle and been the rock where we can anchor our storm-tossed ships.

Since Kindu has been more vulnerable, she has been stronger understanding better and better how vital a member of our little group she is. Star no longer cowers in her dog bed while Kindu claims the spot next to Gary while we watch TV. Instead she grabs the other side and sits proudly displaying her gorgeous profile pretending to be interested in whatever show is on.

Kindu claiming the queen-sized bed as his own

She spends the vast majority of any given day nearby me, always within easy reach of my petting which is better to her than food, although just barely. Sometimes she demands scratches and rubs wiggling in anticipation of the comfort any kind of touch brings this basenji. In the evening if I don't continue the pets long enough, she contorts her body to look backwards at me with pleading brown eyes meant to melt the soul. If that doesn't work, she pulls back her lips and shows me her teeth in a "submissive grin" which almost always makes me laugh.

Then we go through our routine, I pet her a couple times, stop, she wiggles around and grins. She will repeat this as many times as I am willing to continue playing this ridiculous game with her. Kindu doesn't like it one little bit, often wedging himself beneath my knee and growling every time Star wiggles. Sometimes Gary just looks at the three of us and shakes his head.

So like so many times in life, the challenges of this year has bonded our  small family even tighter together. We've grown to appreciate one another just that much more and to rely on our little rock in a storm, Star Baby.

Gentle, yet strong Star

Memories, Pictures, Finally Home

By Linda Grupp Boutin

Now that Star has lived in her "forever home" for over 2 years, she finally is gaining confidence and security in her new-found lifestyle. She greets visitors to our home with no shyness, usually encouraging the newcomer to spend some time rubbing her ears and petting her. She used to shy away and take her time deciding if someone new was safe or not. Now that behavior is limited to walks when strangers approach her too quickly.

Star keeping watch!

 After living outdoors her whole life, she now enjoys 2 beds just for her (not at the same time), along with lounging on the loveseat, jumping on the couch, and best of all snuggling with the pack on the big bed. Not that she ever wants to get under the covers. She roasts down there! Besides she must always keep her head out, ever vigilant for the opportunity to get petted. 


Gary calls her everything from "skin" to "carpet" because she clings so tightly to us that we cannot breathe. She loves being with her people and most especially with her Pop whom she adores. It is amazing to watch the transformation from a show/working/mother dog to a retired and relaxed house dog. This basenji girl now tears around the house at top speed, faster than Kindu when she turns her fastest of reverses. Leaving the basenji boy looking over his shoulder saying, "Where'd she go?"

Lately she has developed a new way to surprise her basenji brother. She rounds the back of the dining room table, but instead of following his normal path around the opposite end of the table, she takes a quick left turn underneath the first chair and pops out the other side, wagging her curly tell and virtually shouting, "Surprise!" I love when she steps up to greet me when I walk through the door, her cinnamon roll tail flipping from side to side. I can't help but smile and say hi to my little girl.

She is my role model for setting the challenges of the past behind and moving happily to embrace the moment. Gary and I often chuckle about the concept that dogs can only remember the past for 15 seconds. Tell that to Kindu every time we pass the bush that he once flushed the orange tabby cat from! Ha, my dogs have long memories when it comes to hunting or remembering where they left their bones.

Star Baby "eating up life" as a pup.

Yet Star has moved beyond those painful memories of her past, longing for more closeness, more time with her people, more living. Yep, my fur babies never fail to teach me the importance of life's lessons and how to live more fully, basenji-style!

Dancing Toes, Bumps and Play Bows

By Linda Grupp Boutin

Recently a new routine has developed in our household, especially when the dinner hour approaches. After spending a day basking in the California sunshine, the basenjis decide it is time to come in and look for dinner. First a polite scratch on the back door, soon followed by more and more insistent scratching, finally if they don't get the desired response long scratches down the screen on the nearest window compelling me to run to the backdoor to save what is left of it.

Let the entertainment begin! The second the door opens, Star and Kindu tumble in racing one another to get inside and flop down on the carpet in front of the couch. Entry achieved, now it is time to pursue kibble-filled bowls after a big drink of water. If I dare tarry, Star soon bows politely to Kindu inviting him to play a game. He bounds up and rushes over to join in the fun.

To me, this game looks very little like fun. First he wraps his mouth around her neck. She bends down to grab him by any foot with her own bite. Frequently she tumbles to the floor, he tries to take advantage of his top-dog position, and she shoves him forcefully off and back, all four of her feet pushing. She jumps up off the floor, play bows again, looks over her shoulder coyly and says with a coquettish look, "I dare you to try it again!"

Kindu jumps back into action going for a different hold, Star spins in a circle and dashes off leaving him sucking air and wondering what she will do next. Sometimes the whole game explodes in fast running around the room and through the whole house if the bedroom doors are open. Up onto the bed, whip around in a circle, race back up the hallway, jump onto the couch, scramble over to the love seat, do a couple laps around the dining table, then pause for a drink side by side at the water bowl.

I begin to wonder if their dinners will do them any good considering how quickly they are working off the calories. I must admire the grace and fluidity of their movements. Star dances circles around Kindu who is very fast in his own right. Always having been a bit of a clutz, watching the furry kids show off their stuff bring smiles and laughter to my lips. And no matter how tough my day has been, my little companions remind me of the important things in life.

To them, dinners are worth dancing for, fun should be shared with those you love, and mischief keeps our all-too-human pride in check. These little friends invite me to keep life in perspective, to be thankful for the gifts God grants me, and to be take joy in every moment I am granted.

Baby Girl

By Linda Grupp Boutin

Alex with newborn Rudy and Star

Star has been changing lately. It seems she finally accepts that she has a place in the pack and a forever home. She always claims the spot in the middle of the loveseat between Gary and me. Depending upon how he feels, Kindu may sleep on Gary's lap or take up most of the couch, legs fully extended. He can be the epitome of the independent basenji, aloof and perfectly happy to sit by himself. 

Our basenji girl prefers to be with someone, preferably touching in some way. Of all the curly-tailed basenjis I've shared my home with, Star is the only one that I have nicknamed Curly. And she loves it when I call her this or sing a song about her. Sometimes the name gets stretched to Curly Girly and that's when she acts especially cute. But by far and away, she loves to be called Baby Girl. And I like calling her that too.

Dog trainers advise owners to name their dogs one-syllable words. Simple, concise and easy to call, like Star. Nicknames don't come up because you aren't supposed to use any other name but their usual name. However, basenjis are smart enough to respond to many words, including nicknames. So Star and Kindu know many different names and can often read my mood by which name comes to mind first.

I love seeing Star finally finding confidence and her place in our little pack. She is relaxed these days, often dancing around the house, play bowing to get Kindu to play, just enjoying life. I've seen this happen before with other dogs we've rescued. It is almost like she realizes that her life has taken a turn for the good and embraces the joy in it.

I look forward to a day when I will go to my forever home with the Lord. I understand and share in the joy Star feels as she dances freely and happily around our home. Some days I dance in the joy of that same knowledge, knowing there is a place where I am accepted by Our Father just the way I am; sins, scars, bruises and all. I hope some time in your life that you can share in the joy of this knowledge too!

Cuddled Your Pet Today?

By Linda Grupp Boutin


    
     Over the last two weeks, we cuddled our basenjis more often and with appreciation for the special role they fill in our lives. Kindu pretends that he doesn't like to be held, petted and cuddled. But late at night before we retire for the night and early in the morning, our independent boy loves to be held like we did when he measured only 8 pounds. On the other hand, Star makes no bones about loving every pet, stroke, or word of affection. Gary has taken to calling her "Skin" because whenever she is in the house she is nuzzled up beside one of us for sure. And let me tell you, this basenji girl really radiates the heat; perfect for those really cold nights!
     On April 15th while watching the chaos in Boston, I had one dog snuggled up on each side of me. The mere act of petting a special animal friend lowers blood pressure and releases stress-relieving chemicals for both the human and the animal. So doctors have learned that owning a pet can promote health and well being. I love sharing my home with my 4-footed friends. They make me laugh, they keep my secrets, they keep me company no matter how bad a mood I might be in, they are there for me whenever I call.
     The down side of pet ownership is that they require some things too. This week I am planning a visit to the veterinarian for annual vaccinations. I am hoping to learn what the vet recommends for a supplement to help both dogs with hip soreness. With both Kindu and Star over 5 years old, they are officially senior dogs. Coupled with the fact that both dogs are fixed, I must keep a close watch on their calories and weight to keep them in good health. Teeth need to be kept clean. Fleas must be kept off the dogs and out of our house. And of course, there are the 3-4 walks per day, picking up after the dog waste, and taking care of Kindu's inevitable upset tummies.
     Although the money part can get tight, I find the sacrifice to feed and take care of my pets to be 100% worth it. If you want a friend loyal to the bone, get a dog. You know my preference is a basenji dog, but I must admit they are tough dogs to raise and train. But now, with 2 adult animals that listen when I insist they do, all those years of chasing Kindu around the dining room table are paying off. When I see the bliss on their faces when I pet them just right, I smile and love them all the more.

Singing in the Rain

By: Linda Grupp Boutin

     A New Year always brings a sense of nostalgia for me. Thinking over the many paws that have crossed my path in a lifetime makes me want to sing. I've mentioned before that basenjis react particularly well to positive reinforcement. Lately on the cold and rainy winter days of Southern California, Star and Kindu race to get in their respective crates when they see me pull out the bag of bacon. It seems like the race is now to see who can get their reward first. Gary and I work hard to get their leashes off and open the doors before the dogs crash them open. Who says crate training doesn't work?
     When we return home, the two of them have opposite reactions to our arrival. Star howls her protests that she wants out of the crate. We can't open the door fast enough to make her happy. Kindu, on the opposite hand, relaxes in his crate, stretches leisurely once we open the door, and is thrilled to have gotten a good nap while we were gone. All the better for him to get into mischief once we're trying to settle down and relax after whatever activity we just participated in.
     Many times our girl will watch the boy and observe his actions to see how to react. Kindu enjoys a good song about his antics which I happily sing about frequently. All of my dogs have heard songs from me sung about their names, nicknames and thievery. One of my favorite tunes to sing to is "Wild Thing," because it so aptly describes my favorite breed of dog. Their ears prick forward and listen alertly when they recognize their names cropping up in my unusual lyrics. Things like, "Star Baby is a curly girl, furly girl, silly curl." She knows if I am singing all is well in her world.
     Several years ago, my brother's family came to visit and spent the night sleeping on the fold-out couch in our living room. I got up early to see Gary off to work the next morning, carefully keeping the living room door shut so my visitors could sleep in. However the morning was glorious with the sun streaming in my back door. The birds sang just outside nested in the bougainvillea vines. First I started whistling out the song refrain I heard from the little sparrows. Soon their echoing calls returned to me, mimicking the whistles I sang out. I'm not sure how long this continued, but before I realized it, my brother's voice called out from the living room, "What are you? A canary or Dr. Doolittle?"
     I tried to apologize for disturbing their rest, but I am sure that he remembered me singing to Ginger when we both were kids growing up together. That is just who I am, sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night with a song playing in my head. Whenever I am alone with the dogs and feeling happy a song just erupts from my lips. It may be a praise song, or an oldie, or a contemporary hit that has captured me, but always the words are adjusted to fit the situation. I love having visitors and reflecting back on my brother's visit, it is no wonder I was whistling while preparing breakfast.
     So how about you, when was the last time you sang out to express your joy, calm your nerves, or praise the Lord's creation all about you? Try it, you might find that it lowers your blood pressure just like petting your furry companions does!

Putting Your Life in Good Order

Star at 5 weeks old

By Linda Grupp Boutin 

   Star is lying beside me tonight. Methodically she lifts her left paw (yes, she’s a leftie), licks it, wipes it across her face, licks her paw, wipes it across her face, over and over. As she prepares to bed down for the night, she likes to wash her face. You might say that’s what cats do, but I am here to tell you that’s what basenjis do too. The breed is quite fastidious about their personal hygiene.

     In Star’s case, she also uses this method to draw your attention to the fact that she “needs” petting. She always wants more petting, Gary calls her “needy.” And she is. She loves food and is willing to taste just about anything; however she is passionate about tactile comfort including just touching you while she sleeps. Being brushed is a special kind of pleasure that she is just discovering. While Kindu fights the brush trying to bite it, Star shivers in delight as the many teeth of the brush send comforting scratches in unison all over her back. She stands still, waiting in anticipation for the next pass of this magical tool. At 7 years old she’s found a new pleasure in life.

     She has other unusual approaches to life. All of my basenjis have always ruffled up a pillow by scratching it into submission. More than one of my pillowcases died a slow death from the dog’s toenails. Star though finds stomping works more to her taste. She steps around in circles, just like every other basenji, but instead of circling and scratching, she turns around and around stomping the pillow to death. Many mornings when I get up, I give her bed pillow a good fluff just to try and give it some body again. If I didn’t occasionally fluff it, she would stomp it as flat as a pancake.

     There are always times when life leaves you feeling as flat as Star’s pillow. Pain has been knocking me down lately leaving me feeling paper thin at times. Star and Kindu join me on the bed in the afternoon while I lie down begging the pain to stop. Absently I run my fingers through their fur comforting both them and me. The mere act of petting an animal releases stress-relieving chemicals for both the person and the pet.

     Star has really great instincts too. It makes good sense to wash your face and make sure all is in good order before you go to sleep at night. When you take the time for this it makes waking up the next morning just that much better. I always feel that way about putting my kitchen to bed for the night so I get up to a clean room the next morning. So what about you, can you use Star’s example to put some needed order into your life? My challenge to myself is to make sure my world is in the best order possible before I close my eyes at night.

Terrorized by a Cat

Rusty found us

     The other afternoon Kindu and I headed home after a long, hot afternoon walk. We dropped off our walking partner at her house and both wanted a cold drink of water. We threaded our way between the buildings following a windy path back towards home. Coming around a blind corner, we jumped back when a rusty orange Abyssinian-type cat jumped off the front step of a condo directly at us.

We're being watched, closely!

     We’ve spent all of our dog’s 4 years teaching him to tolerate other animals, but like most basenjis, when another animal moves quickly, his instincts command him to catch it. However this cat displayed such aggression my basenji-boy watched, but didn’t charge the cat. This kitty sensed our apprehension and transformed into the posture of a Halloween cat. Tail straight up, back hunched with hackles raised, he growled low in his throat and stalked towards us.

     With a swift glance over my shoulder, I shepherded Kindu forward trying to avoid an altercation with this very angry feline. I kept him in front of me while checking the cat’s progress. I saw he was still following just 10 feet behind us. I know that animals have their territories, so we hustled across the street and finally saw the chase called off. “Rusty” demurely turned his back on us and returned to his perch on the steps.

     With the solid ribbon of asphalt protecting us, we now felt safe enough to stare back at the cat with wonderment. I had seen this animal on previous walks, but had no idea why today we could not walk our normal route back home. I wondered to myself if this was a mama kitty protecting her litter or if this might be a wild cat afflicted with rabies. Finally deciding to get out of the heat, we turned toward home and soon were cooling off with shared ice cubes. Soon the strange chase forgotten, I prepared dinner and got back to my normal routine.

     About one week later, Gary and I walked Kindu together on another very hot August afternoon. A young lady returning home, opened her front door and guess who stepped out; Rusty! This time although he (or is it a she?) saw the dog and two strangers near his front door, all of the cat’s attention focused on his mistress returning home. He purred loudly as he weaved between her legs nearly tripping her with affection. Remembering our last encounter, I hurried away shaking my head as I went. Nope no kittens and  he obviously wasn’t wild, but well loved. I came to the simple conclusion this was one tough kitty.

Rusty, the terrorist kitty

     I told Gary the story and we laughed together about how Rusty’s bluff had worked so well on Kindu and me. Our boy was about three times the size of the cat and could have given him a run for his money. But over-protective owner that I am, I didn’t want to face my boy getting into a fight with a cat baring tooth and claw. More importantly though, I wanted to avoid taking Kindu in to see the vet to treat cat scratches and bites!

My Earliest Memory—Puppies Under the Porch

Mom on porch in Bellevue, Washington

     I looked out my bedroom window hiding behind the curtain trying to keep from being seen myself. My mother had laid me down for a nap and I was supposed to be napping. However, I knew Mom’s routine and suspected that she was just outside the front door chatting with Pete Jacobson. The skies outside my Bellevue, Washington window looked clear and free from rain this afternoon. As I peeked, I saw her with our landlord. This was my cue that I could play in my room without being discovered. They would be busy talking for a good long while past experience informed me.

      I found one of the colorful picture books sitting on the shelf and opened it to the first page. I smiled at the picture of the dog bounding across the page, but squinted as I puzzled over the black squiggles that marked the bottom. With all of my nine other brothers and sisters at school or work, I had no one to decipher the strange markings in the book. I understood what the pictures meant, but what were all these little marks supposed to mean. I couldn’t wait until my big sis, Pam, got home from school and could read me this book once more. Meantime I walked over to the toy box and found my little stuffed dog. I made him jump the way I saw the puppy jumping on the page opened on my bed.

Linda at 2 with big brother Steve

     Returning to the box I found my little girl doll and placed her beside the dog and book. I guided the doll’s hands to caress the puppy and pretended I was outside playing with the puppies just outside under the back porch of our house. How I wished it wasn’t naptime so that I could run outside and play with the dogs while I had them all to myself. But I knew that if I ventured out, Mom would simply usher me back upstairs and into bed for the dreaded nap time that I hated.

      I lay down on top of the covers, leafing through the pages enjoying the pictures and scowling at the letters that made no sense to my 3-year-old eyes. My mind drifted as my eyelids became heavier and heavier. I roused momentarily listening to the birds singing outside and glanced out the window for the source of the sound. Mother knew her babies better than they did themselves. She knew I needed a nap and that fighting me on it would just bring out my stubborn streak. If I’d still been awake, I might have seen her glancing up at my window looking to see if her youngest daughter (at least until Deb was born) could be seen or not.

Linda peeking out from under her bonnet

      Soon enough sleep overtook me. Mom poked her head into my bedroom and saw the scene I’d scattered around myself. She shook her head when she saw the open picture book about dogs, the stuffed animal and the doll still clutched in her sleeping daughter’s small hand. She could have guessed this would be what she would find. Mothers know best!

A Gift of Life, an Acceptance of Loss

     One of the toughest parts of pet ownership arrives on the day you must give your beloved friend up. Sometimes this comes as a surprise; sometimes it’s preceded by months of illness. It might happen because you must move or because you can no longer afford your friend. The time frame makes no difference because anytime I’ve had to give up any of my pets, my heart swells and nearly breaks. Thankfully these hard days stand out as punctuation marks between endless days of enjoying my pet’s companionship.

     Noelle arrived on a warm October afternoon, a 5-year-old basenji girl who had spent many days in the show ring. Placing a lead on Noelle’s neck was pure pleasure. She stepped out beside me and loved to strut her stuff just as if she was in the ring at the Westminster Kennel Club show with the whole world watching. We rescued her when her breeder needed to adopt out some of his older dogs, in effect she moved into retirement.

     At first, we both felt lost in our new relationship. I missed Rosie, who had died about a month before we adopted Noelle. Our new dog hadn’t ever lived in a house, splitting her time between the backyard and her crate in the garage. I taught her about the trials of stairs, the pleasures of pillows, and the joys of being the sole dog living on the premises. I lavished her with time and when she seemed anxious, I slipped on her leash and we went walking. In those early days, we went directly to the back of the small, quiet park in our neighborhood. We ran together around the cement circle at the back of the park until she felt safe and secure again. Then we returned home and to whatever we’d been doing. In those first few weeks home we did this half a dozen times a day, helping us both take on a healthy glow.

     Comfort slowly replaced Noelle’s fear. Soon she enjoyed my company, although she ran away from Gary and all visitors to our home. I tackled her "standoffishness" by letting her come downstairs and join the party when she was ready. An edible chew toy went a long way to reinforce this behavior in a positive way. The ache in my heart from Rosie’s loss was slowly replaced by the joy of watching Noelle settle in and begin to enjoy her new life. The more comfortable she became, the more successful I felt in welcoming her into our lives.

     Soon I discovered that Noelle had the sweetest temperament of any of the basenjis I’d ever owned. And although I’d missed her puppy days, I also missed housebreaking problems and destructive chewing while she teethed. She became the special gift of life in our home and helped us heal the holes left behind by Rosie’s loss.