Introductions

By Linda Grupp Boutin

Star just before we brought her home.

So excited about picking Star up at the breeder's, Gary and I only began to think about introducing the 2 adult dogs on our way home from San Diego. First we stopped at our friend, Barbara's, grooming shop. Star needed a bath badly and we were welcomed into the shop for a quick clean up. Bathing her gave me my first chance to really assess her reactions. Like all our basenjis, she saw water as something to avoid if at all possible. Barbara and I wrestled together to get Star cleaned up and dried off. Wow, did she ever smell better and her coat shone after washing out all the dust.

Continuing on toward home, we discussed various possibilities for Kindu and Star's introduction. We stopped at the pet store to purchase a new collar, halter and leash for walking our basenji girl. This time I selected pink because this little one was such a girly girl. We brought her into the store to try on the new equipment. She looked around amazed with all the new scents, sounds and sights. We saw she had never been in a pet store before and the cashier made sure she liked her experience by rewarding her with a tasty treat. Star wolfed it down in one bite.

Gary dropped me off at a nearby park and drove home to pick up Kindu. The plan was to walk him to the park and let him "discover" Star walking with me. Our boy loves greeting other dogs on his walk and at the park we would all be in neutral territory as far as the dogs were concerned. The little girl and I waited sitting at a picnic table while the boys approached. Star watched intently as Gary and Kindu came closer and closer. She knew how to handle herself and feigned indifference when they joined us at the picnic table.

Ahh, contentment...

Our ever enthusiastic boy showered Star with all his attentions. She kept her cool giving Kindu a growl when he gave her a nip on the neck. Very soon her ears totally captured our boy. He mouthed them and she tolerated this silly boy's antics. That is, so long as he didn't chomp too hard! When he did, he received her low growl compelling him to back off.

Soon we were all walking side by side back to the condo and we had crossed our first hurdle with Kindu wanting to know Star better and her wondering what to do with all his enthusiasm.

Getting to Know Star

By Linda Grupp Boutin

Star moved in with us on January 10th this year, officially the oldest dog we ever adopted at 7 years old. And I would be fibbing if I said the road has been free of bumps. We started off with a big advantage because we were there when Star was born and she knew our scent as some of the very first that she learned. When you are a newborn pup, blind and deaf, first and lasting impressions come through the sense of smell. So when we picked Star up, she seemed to have a deep recognition of us.

Star about 1 hour old.

That helped, but plenty of challenges remained to incorporate Star into our "pack." She had been raised to be an outside dog, so the first thing she tried to do was cover up Kindu's scent on our bed. I'll leave some of this to your imagination, but it did involve the washer and dryer...hence the beginning of our housebreaking procedures. She actually caught on quickly once we succeeded in teaching her the new schedule around our house.

Although she was new to us, the vet considered her to be a "senior dog" requiring special older dog precautions adding greatly to the cost of having her spayed. And we had no idea she is a complete and total diva. We knew we faced troubled waters when we arrived at the vet's to pick her up from her surgery. We could hear her objections loud and clear in the waiting room. One thing about an unhappy basenji is that they do not just whine and cry, they scream and Star was very unhappy, maybe even downright angry about the whole thing. Her screams rang loudly in our ears and I've never seen a vet's office so happy to send a patient home!

So Star took out all her pent-up fear, frustration and frantic energy by attacking the cone she woke up to find firmly attached to her head. I would arrive home to find she had found another way to remove this hated appendage. I replaced it over and over onto her head and she looked for more and more ways to remove it. I have never had a dog succeed in removing a cone before, so this was new to me. After we resorted to duct taping the chewed up thing back together again, Star took matters under her control and ate it off of her! Now I was scared she would need another surgery to get all that plastic, tape, etc. out of her stomach. A couple days later I (and the vet) breathed a huge sigh of relief when she successfully passed the remnants out of her system.

And this doesn't begin to address the matter of convincing both dogs to get along--this part of the adventure will be saved for my next post!

Taking the Bumpier Road

After moving to Salt Lake City my husband and I began driving around learning about our new home. We discovered how the double numbering system using longitude and latitude kept us from ever feeling lost as we explored. One bright Sunday morning, we decided to drive out to Park City and spend a day exploring a mine they had converted for tourists. We went one mile underground in the mineshaft elevator to find a drippy, cold and dark environment that we mostly wanted to get out of and away from. Dutifully we rode the little mine cars that took us on a tour of the tunnels, learning all the way about how this mine provided so much to the residents of Utah including the artesian spring that supplied our water. At the end of the tour we rode the elevator back to God’s blue sky above and breathed relief at smelling the fresh mountain air.

This was just the beginning of the adventure however. We got back onto the freeway to travel into the city only to find the most massive roadblock of cars that we’d ever experienced. As we crawled forward at 2 M.P.H. we noticed that many locals were bailing off the freeway and up a mountain road. Having developed too much confidence in our navigation skills, we decided to follow the group traveling in a southerly direction. That’s where we made our mistake.

We had driven our brand new, and unfortunately low-hanging, Mazda to Park City. And what we really should have done was park for a while and let the traffic pass. My husband kept saying there was no problem as the street below us turned into a rutted, asphalt road; into a gravel strewn path; into a dirt trek; and finally into a deer trail as it made its way through the forest. Being the passenger in the car, I growled about every little bump and rock hitting the bottom of it. But when our way turned into a dirt trail with what felt like enormous boulders jutting into our path, I begged him to turn around. Nope, he had the wheel and was determined to bypass the traffic and find a different way. No matter what it did to the bottom of the car!

After forever, we reached the summit of the mountain and a dirt lot where backpackers had parked their vehicles while hiking on the mountain slopes. We proceeded through the area to another dirt road following our group leaders with faith in their knowledge. Eventually we left the rocks and dirt behind and found a real road again. It even took up past Sundance, but every bit of the explorer in me had been bumped and scared away.

We wound up coming out one valley south of where we lived, and found the freeway with little trouble that took us back home. Gary chuckled the whole way about what fun it had been to drive over the mountain with no real road to follow. When we arrived back home at the apartment Rosie barooed us a greeting, her lost wanderers.

Sometimes God’s path for us is a bit rutted too. Maybe the asphalt has decomposed a bit with time, or the way becomes lost in the forest of trees. Occasionally guides are sent that lead us back to find God again. All in all, I believe that almost everything that happens can shed light on our experience of the Lord, whether it be a deep, dark mine that makes you shiver or a non-road that helps you climb a mountain with your husband while all the time inside you’re thinking Grrrr!

Role Models and Spelling Lessons

By Linda Boutin

Boo Bear

     Have you ever noticed that “dog” is “god” spelled backwards?

     I hear the groans now, “Linda, you are just too into dogs!” you complain. And perhaps you are correct in this assessment. But there truly is something about a love of dogs and animals in general that brings out the best in many of us. Growing up 10^th in a family of 12 children, I always could count on the complete attention of the family dog if I simply showed them the slightest interest. When a household is wracked with the noise level created by 3-5 teenagers, a couple of babies, and a year in which 3 of my siblings had weddings; not to mention the regular occurrences of births, graduations, ball games, solo performances, choir, plays, etc., etc., etc. Let me just say, that it was ever so easy to become lost in that crowd.

     Not so with my four-legged friends. I could call them, take a walk (to get away from the noise), dress them up (while ignoring my dolls), or simply share reading a book with them attentively listening. They captured my heart for as long as I can remember. And even in adulthood, while I stayed home battling pseudo-obstruction, a succession of basenjis sat beside me while my husband marched off to work to support our little family. Even had we been blessed with children, I know they simply would have caught my love of dogs and enjoyed them as well.

     It’s hilarious to me that so many dogs are named anything from Aphrodite to Buddha to Zeus or Hera. I know from these names that I am not the only animal lover who has noticed this weird quirk of spelling. Just how many cats have you heard of named Thor? I used to always name my basenji babies after a place in Africa since that is where their breed originates. However all of my dogs over the years sported many nicknames which they answered to. These days Kindu knows exactly how I’m feeling depending upon whether I call him by his real name (might be in trouble), Boo (good vibes), Little Buck (puppy name that has fallen into disuse), or “The Do” (when Gary and I are discussing his antics). And this list is not comprehensive.

Kindu keeping me company

     Seriously though, when I consider God’s unconditional love for His Creation--humanity, when I remember how He forgives us no matter how far we wander astray, when I realize He doesn’t hold a grudge no matter how I cling to one; it’s then that I know that God placed these little, patient, tail-wagging friends into our lives as an example for our own behavior. Jesus showed us a perfected example of what behavior to strive for, but the pup at my feet gives me the daily reminder to not judge, always forgive, and greet my friends like I haven’t seen them in months. It makes that friend feel special and isn’t that what makes life worth living?

P.S. Gary pointed out to me that this spelling does not cross over to other languages. Something is lost in the translation from English. No matter whether French, Spanish, or German, it just doesn’t work.

Turn About--What???

Kindu keeping my chair wa

By: Linda Grupp Boutin

     Even after decades living with basenjis, they keep teaching me new things about the breed. Most recently Kindu taught me a new trick. So you’re asking, the dog taught the human a new trick? And I would answer: of course he taught me a new behavior. It’s not the first time this has happened. Rosie Toes received her name after she taught me that if I didn’t fill up her food dish by 5 p.m., I could expect her to dance around the room until she gained my attention to go to the kitchen and feed her. Others of the breed taught me all about when I should open the door using various cues to tell me their desires. Mostly all these dogs taught me how I was to respond to their needs.

     Kindu has turned this completely upside down. Ever since we had to patch holes in walls and purchase replacement furniture turned into chew bones, we have taught our basenjis that their crate was their “safe” place. In other words, we were protecting them from our wrath when we returned home to find destruction wreaked by our bored pets. It’s amazing what this iron-mouthed breed can chew through when they put their minds to it.

     So on his very first night, I taught our basenji boy that his crate was to sleep in and I lay on the floor beside him trying to lull him to sleep. That is, until Gary came out to the living room and convinced me to let Kindu sleep near us in the headboard of our bed. We all got a good night’s sleep and I continued working on his training the next morning. One thing he could always count on though was that if we both went somewhere, Kindu would be confined to his crate.

     As a result, he has never learned to be a destructive chewer like so many basenjis are. All he’s ever chewed up included a potholder and one of Gary’s baseball caps. So recently when he gave us more than the usual guff about going in his crate, I decided to desensitize him by providing positive reinforcement when he went in his crate. In other words, I bribed him.

     So last Wednesday night I was surprised to see our boy sitting behind me while I was getting ready to go to the Aspiring Writers’ Forum, a writers’ group I co-lead with my writing buddy, Coleene. My shock grew out of Kindu’s unusual behavior. Normally if he senses that we’re leaving, he hides behind the far end of the dining room table and leads us on one of his merry chases before acquiescing and agreeing to go in his crate. Not this night though, a strategically placed piece of bacon treat had been beckoning to him from inside the crate and he was waiting for me to follow him up the hallway and open the door for him to enter and enjoy his treat. No muss, no fuss, just a boy happy to go into his “safe” and “tasty” place.

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.

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!