We adopted Buddy from the local animal shelter in the summer of 2005. He was about two years old at the time. He had been returned to the shelter by the people that had adopted him about a year earlier. Based on the bits and pieces of information we got, I'm guessing that there was maybe a divorce or an unexpected move, and they no longer had time to spend with him. Since he was still a puppy (or at least an adolescent), he developed the usual problems: chewing, barking, digging out of the yard, etc. and they decided they couldn't keep him.
Earlier that summer we had decided we were ready to have a dog in the family again. Our last dog, Molly, died in 2002 and we wanted to wait until the kids could be more involved before we had another one. I had been watching the dog listings at the shelter for a while, and when I saw this one I was hopeful. First of all, he is gorgeous - he has very dramatic coloring and is just a very striking dog to look at, though he's enough of a mutt that you can't quite figure him out. He was also about the right size - 45 pounds or so, not too big for the kids to control, but large enough to play with, hike with, etc. Evaluating a dog at the shelter is tough; you can take one outside into a large pen to interact with away from the noisy kennel, but there are so many distractions it's hard to get a good sense of what a dog is like. We looked at a couple of other possible dogs, just to be sure - I never feel very comfortable making a choice without examining all my options - but he ended up being the one. [My nephew, who was with us that day, likes to say that I brought out successively larger and/or more hyper dogs to make this one look good, but I really didn't stage anything. It was just my usual decision process.]
It didn't take too long for Buddy to settle in. Stray items were not safe from chewing for a while, and Son especially lost shoes and other items since he is the most likely to be lax about picking things up off the floor. But with lots of attention and his own chew toys, that phase didn't last long. Now he can make a rope bone last for months, when at first we were lucky if it made it through a week.
He is very social; he loves to play with other dogs, gets along well with our crabby, aging cat, and of course thinks that everyone who comes to our front door is just here for him. We're not sure what breed(s) he is; his coloring reminds people of a Bernese, but he doesn't have the body type - he has a narrow chest and is long and lean. Border collie, maybe, or some type of setter mix. He's fairly observant, but not as alert as many herding dogs are. He has very little body awareness; his tail is huge and he never knows what it's hitting. He has definite routines and habits. If you wait too long to let him out one last time at night, he won't budge from his bed - he's done for the evening. In the morning, the first person down will let him out, and then he will want to snuggle or lie down again for a while. As soon as the second person comes down the stairs, the mental food bell goes off and he is actively asking for his breakfast. He hates the wood floors in our kitchen and dining room, and will only traverse them if he can make it safely to his "islands" (the throw rugs that are at the foot of the stairs, in front of the sink, and inside the back door). He is goofy, playful, and affectionate. Best of all, he smiles.
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Gazing at REALLY big trees....
taking in a little history...
