It's been a couple of months since I've introduced you to another one of my, uh, ahem, 12 dogs. So meet Vincent. aka Donut. aka Nutty. aka Nutter Butter. Vincent is my shadow. He goes to bed when I go to bed. He doesn't get up until I get up. He follows me from room to room. But it's not out of anxiousness - I think he sees himself as my protector, my
guardian. It's very sweet. He's a big lug of a dog and I absolutely adore him.
Vincent and his four
litter mates came to us when they were just two weeks old. Their mother had been hit by a car and a policeman found them all on the side of the road with the pups trying to nurse the dead momma dog. He took them to the local shelter who called me - well, Blue Dog. They said they had five two week old Golden Retriever mix puppies who would need to be bottle fed. Now let me back up a bit - this was back in 2001 when we had only been doing this rescue thing for a short time. And I had never bottle fed motherless puppies. I had
noooooooo idea what I was in for. Anyway, I went down to the shelter to pick them up. I was transferring them from their crate to mine thinking, as I passed each "golden retriever" puppy from crate to crate "chow", "chow", "chow", "chow" and oh yes, "one more chow". These were not
goldens or any mix of golden. They were chow mixes and a couple even looked pure. Now before I offend any chow chow owners or lovers, I have two chow mixes and I think they are fantastic, but chows are not the easiest dogs to adopt out, even harder to place than pit bulls some times. So I was worried about what I had bitten off. Well, it was one of the hardest and best experiences of my life. To hold that fragile little life in your hands and know that it is up to you to keep them alive, well, I guess it's sort of like having a child, at least it's the closest thing I have experienced. We were up every two hours to feed and yes, poop and pee them. No, they don't do that on their own as tiny babies. Who knew?!?!?!? I sure didn't!!! We took turns and we would do the zombie walk to their room saying "It's time to FEED the donuts" just like the old
Dunkin' Donuts commercials. The name stuck and the whole litter became "the donuts". They
grew up and were as cute as could be. Three were adopted out right away, at like six weeks old. But two stuck around. At about four months the big, black, almost pure bred looking chow boy found a home. But this precious
blonde puppy, this chow, possibly
Shar Pei mix cutie pie we called Vincent just had no interest. Maybe it was meant to be. When Vincent was about three weeks old I had gone in to feed them and he didn't wake up. he was limp and cold. I completely freaked out! I mixed up some water and corn syrup to keep him from going into shock and slept with him on my chest to keep him warm. It was a bonding moment for sure. So after almost a year of looking for a home for him we realized he had already found his home. He was ours and he was already home.
It's been a couple of months since I've introduced you to another one of my, uh, ahem, 12 dogs. So meet Vincent. aka Donut. aka Nutty. aka Nutter Butter. Vincent is my shadow. He goes to bed when I go to bed. He doesn't get up until I get up. He follows me from room to room. But it's not out of anxiousness - I think he sees himself as my protector, my guardian. It's very sweet. He's a big lug of a dog and I absolutely adore him.
Vincent and his four litter mates came to us when they were just two weeks old. Their mother had been hit by a car and a policeman found them all on the side of the road with the pups trying to nurse the dead momma dog. He took them to the local shelter who called me - well, Blue Dog. They said they had five two week old Golden Retriever mix puppies who would need to be bottle fed. Now let me back up a bit - this was back in 2001 when we had only been doing this rescue thing for a short time. And I had never bottle fed motherless puppies. I had noooooooo idea what I was in for. Anyway, I went down to the shelter to pick them up. I was transferring them from their crate to mine thinking, as I passed each "golden retriever" puppy from crate to crate "chow", "chow", "chow", "chow" and oh yes, "one more chow". These were not goldens or any mix of golden. They were chow mixes and a couple even looked pure. Now before I offend any chow chow owners or lovers, I have two chow mixes and I think they are fantastic, but chows are not the easiest dogs to adopt out, even harder to place than pit bulls some times. So I was worried about what I had bitten off. Well, it was one of the hardest and best experiences of my life. To hold that fragile little life in your hands and know that it is up to you to keep them alive, well, I guess it's sort of like having a child, at least it's the closest thing I have experienced. We were up every two hours to feed and yes, poop and pee them. No, they don't do that on their own as tiny babies. Who knew?!?!?!? I sure didn't!!! We took turns and we would do the zombie walk to their room saying "It's time to FEED the donuts" just like the old Dunkin' Donuts commercials. The name stuck and the whole litter became "the donuts". They grew up and were as cute as could be. Three were adopted out right away, at like six weeks old. But two stuck around. At about four months the big, black, almost pure bred looking chow boy found a home. But this precious blonde puppy, this chow, possibly Shar Pei mix cutie pie we called Vincent just had no interest. Maybe it was meant to be. When Vincent was about three weeks old I had gone in to feed them and he didn't wake up. he was limp and cold. I completely freaked out! I mixed up some water and corn syrup to keep him from going into shock and slept with him on my chest to keep him warm. It was a bonding moment for sure. So after almost a year of looking for a home for him we realized he had already found his home. He was ours and he was already home.
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