The Foster Follies were playing in our town last night. For those of you new to the List, I am a volunteer with Basset Hound Rescue of Southern California. My retired parents have been helpful in taking in short term fosters. On Saturday I dropped off Clyde, a 9 year old hound who arrived from Florida via Delta Air freight yesterday. Clyde could not tolerate the thunderstorms that are a regular part of St. Petersburg living.
On Sunday morning my telephone rang. It was Mom. Following is the conversation: Mom - "We let Clyde in the house last night and he didn't want to go out. Dad finally lured him out with several pieces of cheese."
Me - "Well, it sounds as though you solved the problem quite well."
Mom - "After I went to bed he came to my window and started scratching on it. I looked at him and he had managed to get his lower jaw through his collar. I woke Dad up, we went outside and took it off. Clyde managed to bulldoze his way back into the house when we went inside. We decided just to let him sleep in the house."
Me - "Inside your house?" (I said, remembering that when I was a kid our dog wasn't allowed in the house more than 15 minutes at a time!)
Mom - "Yes, he just slept quietly on the rug next to my bed for a while."
Me - (Not hearing the ". . . for a while" part) "That sounds sweet."
Mom - "It was until I was awakened by a thump. He was standing on the bed looking at me. He wouldn't get off so when he snuggled up to me I eventually went back to sleep."
Me - (Unable to picture this) "How did you sleep?"
Mom - "I was awakened by another thump. I opened my eyes and his head was on the other half of my pillow. He wouldn't get off the pillow, so eventually I may have dozed off."
Me - What's Clyde doing now Mom?"
Mom - "Well, he is still on my bed on the pillow and I was wondering, if you have the time, if you could stop by and make him go outside?"
Me - "I'll be right over."
Bill James & Miss Molly ("Why don't I get to sleep on the bed?")
(A follow up from Bill with a concise summation of the Basset/Human relationship by his mother.)
Had lunch today with my parents who are still fostering Clyde the Thunder Dog. Always concerned that the burden of fostering a seventy-five pound, nine year old Basset might be more than they can handle, I asked, "How are things going with Clyde, Mom?"
In one succinct sentence, my mother summed up the entire Basset Hound/Human relationship when she said, "Well honey, he's just fine as long as we do what he wants us to do." [note: Clyde the Thunder Dog was later adopted by TBO and Mrs. TBO]
Bill James & Miss Molly (I want a slumber party at Grandma's home. Haroooo!)
| One story of particular importance to rescue is Bill's story of a pregant Basset, Penelope, who Bill personally took home from a shelter just short of her being euthanized, and the day by day accounting of the puppies, as they died - one by one. What a message for spay and neuter! |