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Bruce Goodboy

Cocoa and Bruce

Last week while we were on our regular dog walk, this scrawny but determined puppy came out of nowhere and demanded to be brought into our pack. He would not be chased off even though it was obvious he was terrified. Cocoa, the least well-behaved of the group, was freaking out completely, so I backtracked the other way with him. Fred and George were startled, and a bit concerned but didn’t seem to feel overly threatened by this interloper. They allowed him to follow them the rest of the way around the block. 

Once Cocoa was removed to the house, the little guy bounded over and looked at me with such intelligence that I knew it was a hopeless case. My son texted my sister-in-law and asked if we could temporarily house him in her empty house across the street. She said yes, and that was that. 

He was in bad shape. We could count his ribs, but once he understood he could stay, he could not stop smiling. 

We set up a doggy daycare situation complete with a snoodle towel, Cocoa’s castoff toys, and a box for extra hominess. He stays outside during the day but on the back porch during the rain and at night. 

He sits when you tell him to. He comes when called. He is SO excited to see anyone every time. He loves his toys and dog food. He is agreeable to putting on the harness for a walk, although he’s very nervous about the actual walk and will walk so close to your heel that he gets bumped with your foot. 

Slowly, we are trying to acclimate the other dogs to Bruce Goodboy’s presence (GB). He’s been christened Bruce because he’s the color of Batman’s suit, AKA Bruce Wayne. And Goodboy, well, because he’s such a good boy. Although, with the size of his head and paws, I’m pretty sure he’s going to be Big Boy before the month is out.


Read more about our animal adventures in the Animal Antics South of the Border Series.

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Manchas to the Moon and Back

Manchas confirmed she was not pregnant by going into an agonizing heat cycle. She was miserable. Fuzz was annoyed. Cocoa was baffled. We were at our wits’ end trying to find something to calm her. Fishy treats lasted all of 2 seconds. Catnip was sniffed up in record time by Fuzz. 

We were extra careful to keep her in the house. Her last escape was stressful for everyone. And now that we could confirm she was not pregnant, we needed to make arrangements for her sterilization. 

The space capsule came out and we corraled Manchas in it. She hated it. She hated the ride. She hated the sun and shadows. She hated the traffic. She hated the dogs at the vet. When it was our turn, we explained that she didn’t like men and that she was very fast. The vet, who was a woman, made a special note that she would take care of the operation or at least the anesthesia administering, rather than passing it off to her dad, the head vet and that she would make sure that when the capsule was opened, it would be in an enclosed space. 

Since Manchas had eaten at 5 that morning, the operation couldn’t be done until later that afternoon. So we left her there, still in the space capsule, to be picked up at 5 p.m.

We were first in line when the vet opened his doors and rushed inside for our little Manchas only to find out the vet had FORGOTTEN to give her the operation. She was still in the space capsule in the corner of the shop. He said he’d do it right then and to return in an hour. So we did.

She was totally wigged out, as is to be expected after such a trauma. The ride home was terrifying for her. When we got her home, she insisted on dragging her body from one end of the room to the other–shadows spooked her but she seemed to recognize Fuzz, Cocoa, and my feet. I tried tucking her in her basket, but she kept getting out. I finally just let her situate herself for the night–and I don’t know where she slept. Her face was filthy in the morning.

The next day she could walk better but was in obvious distress. She didn’t want to eat. Fuzz was ok with that–more food for him he thought. The vet gave us pills to give her in lieu of a daily shot since I know she wouldn’t be riding in the space capsule ever again. I tried dissolving it in milk, but she wasn’t interested. She wouldn’t eat it mushed in her food either.

By day 2 she was up and around and starting to eat. She was even more tolerant of my son and husband, at least as tolerant as not running from the room every time they approached. My son even said she let him pet her and PURRED for a few minutes. Now that’s something. By the end of the day, she had managed to remove her bandage, but she wouldn’t let anyone check her surgery site for infection. She wasn’t having any of those pills either. So we kept an eye on her and hoped for the best. 

About a week after her operation, you couldn’t even tell she’d had some major trauma. She was back to her regular, curious self. She even curled up with Fuzz again, now that those hormones were out of the way. They took up playing hide and seek in the mornings after breakfast. Manchas has a decided advantage though. Not only is she more fleet of foot than lumbering Fuzz, but she isn’t blind in one eye. They both seem to enjoy the game though, so no harm done.


Read more about our ongoing animal antics!

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