If you follow me on social media, you know I am crazy about my two dogs. They’re my little buddies, following me around all day, curling up in my office while I write, and whining just enough to get me outside just when I need a break.
Bean is closing in on 9 years old. We adopted him from the North Texas Pug Rescue when he was about 2. He was one of the two last dogs surrendered from a backyard breeder.
The rescue called us out of the blue to tell us we could come choose one of the dogs. My daughter, youngest son, and I hopped in the car and zoomed off.
The dogs were at a vet about 40 minutes away. They took them outside so we could watch them and play with them. Bean (formerly named Coleman) was petrified. Literally still as a statue.
The other dog, a brindle pug, was full of energy, bouncing around like he was Tigger from Winnie the Pooh. His energy scared me a little bit (!), but truthfully, Bean stole my heart from the moment I laid eyes on him.
We selected him, brought him home, and the poor little guy basically didn’t move of his own volition for a solid 6 months. He sat on the couch and trembled. We took him outside. He sat on the grass and trembled. We had to coax him to eat and drink. He didn’t sniff his environment. At. All. He wouldn’t take any treats. He was so unbelievably damaged. Whatever abuse he’d suffered had had a profound effect.
One day while in the front yard, Bean realized he was actually free and that he could run. And run he did! He took off, zipping around the yard like the Tazmanian Devil. Once he discovered he could run, it was impossible to catch him! We managed to corral him toward the door. It took another month for him to realize he was safe, and at that point, Carlos trained him to come when called.
The sweet little guy is developmentally delayed. A little autistic, even. And we love him to bits.
Dobby is a chug: half chihuahua/half pug.
We’d recently lost our sweet boxer, Jazzy. Bean was so lonely. He’d been with Jazzy since the moment we’d adopted him in 2013. Jazzy died in 2018. Later that year, we decided we were ready for another dog. I filled out an application for the pug rescue. A short time later, we, along with about 45 other people on the active list, received information about the little chug rescued on a rural road in Midland, Texas. He was sent to the Colorado rescue because Texas as so many high kill shelters. They try to send dogs off to states with better adoption rates.
Because so many people wanted the chug, then named Solo (not Hans Solo, but because he was found on his own), we had to submit an application. I filled it out and in the section asking why we wanted this dog, I told Bean’s story, his connection with Jazzy, and how lonely he now was. I said how much Bean needed a friend. The little chug would be his much needed companion.
Weeks past and the date the rescue gave for when they’d choose a family for Solo came and went. I was disappointed. Then I received a call saying we got him! 37 people had filled out applications for the chug, but the story about Bean sold them and they knew the two dogs needed to be together.
I hadn’t told my husband about the dog yet. He’s a big dog person. He really missed Jazzy and wanted another big dog. When I told him, he was like, “another small dog? Nooo!”
But he’s a good sport. He drove with me the hour + drive down the mountain to the meeting place and it was love at first sight for the two of them. We renamed him Dobby, which totally fits. He’s our little house elf. Dobby is the funniest dog ever. He and Bean are buddies.