08/30/2023
Going all the way back to my childhood, my most vivid memories have always been of the dogs that I’ve met. I remember the first time I met friends dogs, dogs in the neighborhood, the dog I grew up with and especially every Smug Mutt and foster that has been a part of my adult life.
The first time I met her was in December, 2016 and her name back then was Briscoe. I hated that name. It didn’t fit her and I never called her that.
She was a generational feral that had been trapped in the abandoned house she was living in almost two years earlier, in February 2015. She had made very little progress in the foster home she was living in so we agreed to bring her to the SMHQ.
Two and a half months later, on February 17th, 2017 we went to get her, expecting it to be a simple process.
It. Was. Not.
That petite little dog with attitude bit me and fear pooped all over me for the next hour or so while she made three of us look foolish trying to get her out of that foster home and in a crate for transport.
Feral dogs are “Flight” or “Fight”. She was all Fight, and she was unbelievably smart, like all generational ferals. Once we got her home and she decompressed, she fell seamlessly into our routine, learning quickly. Especially once I found her achilles heal, Ice Cream. She did anything for Ice Cream.
After we earned her trust and after she went through HW treatments she became social enough to start taking to events. I took her everywhere! Showcasing her on Radio, TV and social media, I thought for sure she’d find a home quickly.
The end goal with dogs like her, and the joy of fostering, is always to see them being spoiled in a forever home. Over the next few years she had several good potential adopters but none panned out for some silly reason or another. So finally, in July of 2020, we decided she WAS home and she officially became a Smug Mutt. She had became one of the most solid, although bossy and argumentative, members of our pack and I had developed a special bond with her, we were a lot alike.
We always joked that with her attitude she was invincible; nothing could hurt her and she’d live forever. Except for some minor seasonal allergies that had been true. She had enjoyed a really healthy life until this past winter/early spring. When she started to get sick it was definitely a shock but it became this private war I helped her fight. Just me and her. I knew in my heart it was a losing battle, but I fought it with her because she fought.
On the early morning of August 18th, as I was helping her outside to go potty, she looked at me and told me it was time, she was done fighting. I took her back in the house and laid her in her bed. Me and the other dogs were with her when she peacefully passed a short time later. It was so comforting to have been there with her at the end.
The Rainbow Bridge has gotten quite a bit sassier and I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to you not being there to boss me around but I’ll see you when I get there Punkin’ Butt. I’m devastated and still having trouble catching my breath, but I’ll try to carry on and keep doing what I do.
🌈🐾💔😭
Brian
