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.

The "Forever" Teenager

By Linda Grupp Boutin

Ecclesiastes 3:4 A time to weep and a time to laugh; A time to mourn and a time to dance.

Kindu turns 7 years old this December. Funny how it seems like just yesterday when we drove up to Wrightwood to pick our new puppy from a litter available up there. Both Gary and I were downtrodden, depressed and defeated. We had endured 2 full years of assaults on my health, problems with jobs, losing 2 pets in less than 5 years. We had become sedentary since the death of Noelle a year earlier. We just needed some joy in our lives.

So when we went to church on Sunday and Pastor Brian read to us about the seasons of life, I became infected with the thought that we needed a season of joy in our lives. We had fallen into the doldrums with seemingly no way out of them. On the way home from church, I dared to open the subject with Gary. It was the right time of year, early February, just when basenji pups grew old enough to be adopted by families.

Snow lightly fell around us as we looked over the pups in the back of a small pick up truck. While I struggled with such an odd situation to choose a new pet from, Gary asked which was the pup we could afford from the owner. She selected a lively pup from the exuberant litter. Without a second glance, Gary tucked the little guy inside the pocket of his jacket. 

Kindu's first day with us

I objected that I wanted to see this 8-week old pup, but Gary pointed out that the short-haired basenjis were all shivering in the cold. Absolutely true! So I passed the cash to the much relieved owner along with our contact information for her to send his papers to us when they arrived. And before I knew it, we were headed down the 15 freeway south, our new basenji boy proudly standing in my lap, his forepaws on the dash, watching 18-wheelers driving past with no distress whatsoever. I contemplated how the owner had shared with me that this guy's litter name was "Truck." Hmmpphh, he certainly seemed to like big trucks and big noise.

He loved the new-found speed a car ride provided him. He had no intention of laying down and taking a nap, not this boy. He was totally into this new experience and lapping it all up, thirsty to embark on life away from his mom and litter mates. I chuckled as I kept his wobbly legs steady and sat amazed that he was so animated for a young pup. 

We didn't want to go home, so we drove over to my brother's house to introduce him to the family. Everybody welcomed our little ball of energy, especially our nephew, Alex. Kindu didn't know how to navigate the ceramic tile floors at first. But Alex got down on the floor with him and soon was laughing as Kindu grabbed various parts of this new, fun litter mate dragging him around the kitchen. Then he went to grab Alex by the hair. That's when we decided it was probably time to take this rambunctious basenji boy home for a nap.

Checking out the new scents at home

Kindu has enlivened our lives for the last many years. He makes us laugh almost every day. He also drives us to distraction with his demands daily as well. Last Saturday he gave me a particular scare when he bolted out the back gate when I opened it to bring the trash cans back inside. He disappeared in an instant and the temperature outdoors topped over 100 degrees. Star escaped as well, but after a short foray into a neighbor's open garage door, she returned to me when I called her. I secured her safely behind the gate, much to her dismay, ran inside, grabbed my purse and keys and headed straight for the car. I know my boy all too well.

The appeal of a car ride never left this boy, so I began driving slowly through the neighborhood looking for our wanderer. I had caught a glimpse of him tearing down the middle of Flora Lane. I prayed that he avoided the hazard of being hit by a car as he made his madcap run through our streets. The further I circled away from the house, the more worried I became that our boy was in trouble. Rounding a nearby corner, I spotted him greeting a passerby who seemed most amused with his antics.

I gave a shout of his name and opened the car door and before I knew it he jumped onto my lap and into the back seat. He took up his usual navigator spot, front paws resting on the armrest between the two front seats. I kept him carefully confined in the car until I had the garage door secured behind us. Amazingly he agreed to enter the kitchen door instead of giving me a merry chase around the garage. His first stop was the water bowl beside the back door. While I let Star in to join us, he drank the dish down to the bottom. Oh yeah, it had been very hot out there for running like a wild man through our area.

I noticed a bad limp on his left foreleg as he walked into the great room and plopped on the floor. Though he had seemed just fine when I picked him up, closer examination showed all four paws burned badly by the hot asphalt and an extremely sore shoulder. I doctored up his feet, trimmed off the torn skin, massaged his shoulder to ascertain nothing was broken. He was slower than normal for a few days. The pads on his feet healed quickly with a little antibiotic cream. But the whole experience shook me up quite a bit.

The hardest thing about loving dogs is their shorter lifespan than us. We are our dogs forever homes, but they are granted only 10-15 years with us (if a car doesn't get them). Kindu has always had lots of health challenges because of his headstrong nature and a weak digestive system. His madcap run reminded me that I am granted only so many days with this little friend of mine. And it reminded me to thank the Lord for my many blessings and the very special blessing of our Kindu boy who will always be our "Forever" Teenager.

About how tired he looked after his run in the sun!

A Special Kind of Love

By: Linda Boutin       

Bettenon Gala's Rosebud

     We had just lost our beloved 14-year-old Rosie the month before. I missed my sweet companion and knew I would have to find a new basenji to enliven our lives. So I called my friend in San Diego to see if she knew of any puppies needing adoption. Barbara would know if anyone had an off-season litter and if any pups were around in October. It saddened me to learn that she didn’t know of any and I resigned myself to not having a pet until the pups became available in February. I left her with my new phone number so she could call, but I knew the odds were against my hope.

Noel and her original owner

      

     It surprised me about a week later when Barbara called. She told me about a breeder who was in trouble for keeping too many dogs. He needed to find homes for his extra adult dogs and he had to find them fast. She told me that there was a very special girl who needed rescuing and that her name was Noel. I told her that I didn’t think we would be interested in adopting an adult. We know the breed from years of keeping them and one thing was for sure, you wanted to start training a basenji young because they are just so hard to train. A 5-year-old made no sense at all.

     Barbara tried to explain to me that this girl was different, so sweet she would let anyone handle her. I was doubtful and told her I would talk it over with Gary and get back to her. I really had no intention of following through, but when I discussed it with my husband that night he encouraged me to give it a try. I thought about it for a couple of really lonely days. When Gary went off to work, the house seemed so empty and quiet with no little tail-wagging friend to keep me company. Finally I called Barbara back and asked for the details.

     I learned that another breeder had taken Noel in on her farm and that she lived less than a half hour from my house. Driving down to “take a look” with my friend, she wasn’t surprised that the dog crate I brought with “just in case” was filled with Noel when we drove back home. We stopped at the pet store and picked up a new leash, collar and bed for our new girl before returning home.

     It took months for Noel to truly trust us, but I persevered working daily to break down her defenses. She had never lived in a house and needed to learn everything from going up stairs to sleeping in that brand-new dog bed. First thing we had to do was change her name to no-Elly from Noel because otherwise “no” meant her name. She and Gary got off to a really rocky start with Noelly running as fast as possible in the opposite direction he wanted her to go.

Noelly and her 2 pups Rudy (left) and Star (right)

     Eventually we all made our peace and enjoyed 5 years together. Even though the years were shorter and we only met Noelly when she was an adult, we grieved her just as much as we had our other basenji babies. There is a special kind of love that develops when you rescue a dog from a bad situation and give it a better life than they had ever known before. We enjoyed teaching her to overcome her fears of everything from black trash bags to sirens. We loved her just as much as we’d loved our other pets and were grateful that we’d allowed Noelly to steal our hearts.

Rosie Toes

Mama Bette and her 5 hungry pups

     I picked up the limp, wet body and tenderly cradled it in my hands. With no time to spare, all eyes in the room focused on what I would do next. Bette stared up at me pleading wordlessly for me to accomplish what she could not. I rubbed the newborn puppy with a rough towel hoping it would take its first breath. No luck. As the seconds ticked by I kept working on the pup trying to stimulate that first sign of life. I did not hear the other four pups squealing noisily while I struggled to save their sibling.

Bettenon Gala's Rosebud at 2 weeks

     Rosie, always a bit of a drama queen, made quite an entrance that night. Suddenly she inhaled the life-giving oxygen her body craved the second she separated from her mother, Bette. Now I sighed with relief and began to take stock of the pup’s overall health. A girl, good, that makes three girls and two boys. She was small, probably the runt of the litter, but now trying to wiggle out of my hands. As soon as I made certain the pup breathed freely, I handed her back down beside her mama and let nature take over. Soon she took her first drink of milk.

     Born 1 hour after the rest of the pups, she must have been stuck a while in the birth canal. Gary and our family friend, Phil, had gone out to an overnight grocery for vanilla ice cream to start Bette’s milk flowing. She gobbled it up and we took this as a sign that she had finished birthing puppies. Wrong! As the clock hit 3 a.m. Bette went back into labor and quickly produced this last pup. We all marveled as the runt began pushing the bigger pups out of her way to the milk.

Bette and Rosebud (ages 7 & 5)

     The process started at around midnight and four pups came along in 15 minute intervals. We just about called it a night when suddenly Bette began straining again. We watched for another hour to see if more pups arrived. Rosie turned out to be the last of the litter. Finally sure that Bette and the pups were settled and resting, Phil headed home and Gary and I collapsed into bed. That’s when we noticed just how noisy and squeaky the puppies were. Exhaustion helped us fall asleep as the sun rose overhead. When we woke a few hours later, the first order of the day turned out to be moving the puppy playpen from our bedroom to the kitchen. Now we all could sleep more easily.

     The first day of Rosie’s life we nearly lost her, however as time passed she spent 14 years sharing our home with us. There’s something very special about having a pet be born under your roof and live their entire life with you. “Rosie Toes” earned her nickname because of the wonderful habit she had of dancing around us and greeting us with a basenji baarroooo when we returned home. There are many more stories about these two characters and I hope you’ll stop by my blog again soon to enjoy them.