Part 1 - Petite Seraph - My First Purebred Basenji

By Linda Grupp Boutin

I received a very special engagement gift from my fiancee, Gary, many years ago. She had a curly tail, sported a red and white coat, and wore four white socks with a white-tipped curly tail. Sound familiar? Yep, you guessed right. My hubby-to-be gave me my first purebred basenji girl. I named her Petite Seraph and sent her registration paper in to the AKC. I thought of her as my "little angel" and she was so very cute at 3 months old; all wrinkles and loose skin and bouncy energy. As you can tell from the name I selected, I was a classic novice basenji owner with so very much to learn about this unique breed.

At this time, Ginger, my first dog, still lived with me. She was about 10 years old when Seraph arrived and the two of them became friends immediately.

                   Ginger watching the road

Being 1/2 hasenji, Ginger had posed her fair share of problems when it came to training. You could not keep this girl in an enclosed yard because she could jump any fence. She would back up far enough to get a running start, then gallop as fast as possible to where she'd decided to jump over. She continued her run right up the fence until she grabbed the top with her front paws, then hoisted herself to the top, followed by a quick jump over. She taught herself how to do this because the cats next door sat on top of our block wall fence teasing her. The first cat who saw Ginger run up the fence to balance beside them atop the block wall must have been shocked!

So I had gone through tough dog training with Ginger, but couldn't have been more unprepared for a new marriage, in a new town, with a new husband AND a purebred basenji! By the time we married in July, Seraph turned 6 months old and had decided opinions about how she planned to spend her days. We moved to Lakeside in San Diego County and began rehabbing the house we rented while living there. Construction materials rested beside dog food and boxes containing all our possessions. The fighting about Seraph and her bad behavior started before we celebrated one month being married.

We spent one month living on our savings and wedding gifts working daily to put our one bedroom house into good order. Ginger and Seraph watched from the couch while Gary and I tore down layer after layer of wallpaper, repaired and painted walls, hung a new ceiling in the living room and redecorated both the bathroom and kitchen. Soon our little house shone like a new penny and we began to look for jobs. This is when the trouble started.

Fast approaching her first birthday, Seraph's hormones began stirring. Basenjis come into season only one time per year, typically in October. So our girl needed to be protected from getting bred by one of the local male dogs roving the neighborhood. I planned on taking our basenji girl to dog shows and competing, so I took this responsibility very seriously.

While we were away at work, we confined Seraph to the bathroom with the door shut tight. She didn't like this limitation and when I got home from work that afternoon, found our newly repaired and painted bathroom wall shredded by Seraph's iron hard teeth. I sat on the bathroom throne, held my head and cried until Gary got home. When he saw the mess, he roared.

He already had erected a chicken coop on the side of our property and filled it with several hens and a rooster. He decided the solution was to build a dog run and to save on materials connected it to the side of the coop. With no fence around the property, our girls could be safe all day in nice, new kennels while we worked. Yes, the basenji girls were safe, but we could not anticipate what Seraph would come up with next. While we worked, she did too. When I arrived home that afternoon, she had dug a nice, neat tunnel from her kennel into the coop. I found feathers flying, the dog chasing the hens, and half of our hens deceased from Seraph's attack.

This was the last straw, I had to find a solution to getting her behavior under control. This dog, my engagement gift, caused almost all the disagreements Gary and I had in our married life. I wondered whether she was worth all the trouble and strife she was causing. While discussing it with my friend, Mary Jo, she told me of a dog obedience class led by her friend Sam at a nearby mall. A solution to our problem, my iron hard will up against our "little angel's." Our basenji girl would soon be marching off to school!


(see Part 2 for the continuing story)

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!