And so it had begun, more than a year ago, October '08 to be exact. I received a phone call from Basset Buddies Rescue asking if I would foster, on a temporary basis, a hound that was being housed at the vet until a home could be found. Already with an adopted Basset from the rescue, Beauford, and living in an apartment in Chicago, I had reservations but couldn't turn my back on a hound in need, especially since it was "temporary" and he was a senior. So. I said "Yes" and here we are, March '10, a happy family, Beauford (well, not so happy), Winslow and me.
I call them The Prince, Beauford, and The Pauper, Winslow. The Prince is The Prince because he knows he's The Prince and wouldn't stoop to something as low as playing with the new family member, The Pauper. The Pauper is not The Prince and is treated as such by The Prince. Did you make sense of that? I don't know if I did either. I just know that Beauford is haughty unless he is on special one-on-one time with me (he purrs like a cat) and Winslow is loving, always; happy, always; playful, always; and regularly pees his pants. More on that later.
It was meant to be, Winslow coming into my life. If my job weren't so precarious in this economy I would adopt him right now. He's really slowed down all of a sudden. He still loves to give Beauford "what for" at home and loves the dog park, rip & run, but is slowing down even there. At home he lies on the floor, content, not in pain (that I can see), and waits for his dinner to be mixed and served. He comes into the bedroom when I'm putting clothes away, settles on the rug and lays his head on my foot. He stretches out on the kitchen floor, lays his head on his paws, patiently waiting while I suit up Beauford, suit up myself, boots, coat, hat, blah, blah, blah, getting ready to head out the door for our walks. He's slowing down on his walks too, spends more time sniffing, cataloging and filing every smell he comes across. I stop to chat with other dog people, look down and there he is, settled on the sidewalk to patiently wait for me to move on, watching the world go by. He's not gained or lost any weight, is eating fine, drinking well and urinating in fine Winslow fashion. If this is the aging process for this wonderful old hound I could only wish it is as graceful and filled of diginity for me as it is for him. I would sooner cut off my arm than give him up, he's that special. At least to me.
I call them The Prince, Beauford, and The Pauper, Winslow. The Prince is The Prince because he knows he's The Prince and wouldn't stoop to something as low as playing with the new family member, The Pauper. The Pauper is not The Prince and is treated as such by The Prince. Did you make sense of that? I don't know if I did either. I just know that Beauford is haughty unless he is on special one-on-one time with me (he purrs like a cat) and Winslow is loving, always; happy, always; playful, always; and regularly pees his pants. More on that later.
It was meant to be, Winslow coming into my life. If my job weren't so precarious in this economy I would adopt him right now. He's really slowed down all of a sudden. He still loves to give Beauford "what for" at home and loves the dog park, rip & run, but is slowing down even there. At home he lies on the floor, content, not in pain (that I can see), and waits for his dinner to be mixed and served. He comes into the bedroom when I'm putting clothes away, settles on the rug and lays his head on my foot. He stretches out on the kitchen floor, lays his head on his paws, patiently waiting while I suit up Beauford, suit up myself, boots, coat, hat, blah, blah, blah, getting ready to head out the door for our walks. He's slowing down on his walks too, spends more time sniffing, cataloging and filing every smell he comes across. I stop to chat with other dog people, look down and there he is, settled on the sidewalk to patiently wait for me to move on, watching the world go by. He's not gained or lost any weight, is eating fine, drinking well and urinating in fine Winslow fashion. If this is the aging process for this wonderful old hound I could only wish it is as graceful and filled of diginity for me as it is for him. I would sooner cut off my arm than give him up, he's that special. At least to me.
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