We moved to Ohio in June of 2009 with our brand new puppy Tess, purchased from a breeder on a farm in Minnesota. Tess was smart, playful, and loving. It was so fun to see her grow. By August on a whim we started thinking that it might be good for her to have a companion, and determined that there was room in our hearts and lives for another dog. After deciding that another puppy would be too overwhelming, we trekked to the local Humane Society in Dayton to look for an older dog to adopt. T walked through the kennels first while I stayed with Tess in the waiting room. I went back next and immediately noticed a yellow lab out of the corner of my eye. "He's such a sweet boy," one of the workers said, following my gaze to the 2 year old lab. "So calm and gentle." I walked up to his cage and put my hand up to the bars. He lazily sauntered over, and gave me a slow kiss on the hand with his giant tongue. He had the most soulful eyes, and a sky blue bandana tied around his neck. There was a pile of doggy puke in the corner, and he looked just plain tuckered out. "He just had his neuter surgery this morning," the woman continued. "He's still a little groggy." As I walked back out to the waiting room, I couldn't help but feel like the decision had just been made for us, and that in that brief moment he had chosen our family. T went back again to see him, and when he returned, I could see on T's face that he felt the same way.
We came back the next day to take the dog, who had been given the name Buster, home. We thought maybe he knew his name (it turns out he would have answered to anything spoken in a friendly high pitched tone), so Buster he remained. It seemed to suit him. Buster jumped into the backseat of my Saturn the minute I opened the door. He settled in next to Tess, and we were off. That's when everything started to go to #$*!. I had left his adoption papers on the top of the car, so seconds later they were strewn all over Hwy 75. Next Tess got carsick and puked all over the backseat and her new brother Buster. Buster, to his credit, did not seem overly ruffled by this. Once home though he got upset when we tried to make him go upstairs (not sure if he wasn't familiar with more than one level, or wasn't allowed upstairs in his old home), and he nervously peed all over the TV stand in our bedroom. He then proceeded to develop a cough, and green phlegm began to leak out of his nose. At the vet's office the next day we discovered Buster had contracted kennel cough in the shelter, and bonus, he also had cataracts in his eyes and bad teeth that would require corrective dental surgery. I began to panic, and wonder what we had gotten ourselves into.
Once Buster's kennel cough cleared up, his true personality started to emerge. He began to befriend Tess. They became instant playmates, trouncing and wrestling throughout the house, and snuggling up together afterwards for naps. We discovered he did not know how to play with toys, or hold treats and bones to chew on. Buster was very afraid of being scolded and ran from loud noises, leading us to believe that he perhaps had suffered abuse in his past. Despite this, he was very affectionate and trusting. From the very beginning, he loved to cuddle. It was like he had a radar for it, and whenever anyone in the house would assume a relaxed seated position, there Buster would be, ready to join in. Within 30 seconds of snuggling, his eyes would begin to close and the foghorn-esque snores would commence. It was hard to be annoyed by it, because he was so cute and soft and comfy.
As the months and years passed, Buster became fiercely loyal and very protective of our family. He guards our house with a ferocious bark, but greets invited guests with a wagging tail and loving licks. Whenever I get a bad migraine (which has been a lot lately), Buster seems to sense it. He stays by my side, often laying by my feet for hours until I feel better. He keeps an eye on his sister Tess at the dog park, making sure none of the other dogs play too roughly with her. If they do, he intervenes. Buster walks out to the garage to say goodbye to T when he leaves for work in the morning, and waits at the door barking excitedly when T's car enters the garage again in the evenings. He is never in a bad mood, and doesn't hold a grudge when I am a bad momma and don't walk him.
It's been such a delight to see him shed his old anxieties and troubles and become a happy and energetic dog. Watching him consume a Busy Bone, or tow his toy gorilla around the backyard, or zoom up and down the dog beach in Santa Barbara, is worth all the vet visits, poop, and puke. Even when he gets into trouble (like frequently eating entire sandwiches left on the coffee table unattended), I just have to laugh. We don't let the dogs sleep in bed with us generally, but lately Buster has been waiting until we are both fast asleep, and then he sneaks up and crawls in between us. If one of us wakes up, notices, and tries to extricate him, he does not cooperate, and since we don't have the energy to kick him off when we're semi-conscious, he usually gets his way.
It's hard to invision what life will be like without Buster someday, and I don't like to think about it too often. He is almost five, so we hopefully have lots of good years left with him - and I plan to enjoy every moment of it. Buster has been an unexpected gift and blessing to our family, and I truly think God gave us to him, and him to us, for a reason. Hopefully I don't sound like too much of a dog freak, I promise I won't end up on an episode of "Animal Hoarders" or anything like that. If you're thinking about getting a dog, I hope you'll consider adopting one. There are so many Busters out there, just waiting for their future families to come and get them.
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