Bru-sie Poosie Pudding and Pie

I miss my puppy, Bruiser. Yes, I know he wasn’t really a puppy. And yeah, maybe I complained about him a little bit. But, dag, I do miss him!

Two and a half years ago, I decided that I really wanted a doggy of my own. To pet and hug and love forever and ever... all that happiness... bunnies, babies and rainbows and shit. Yes, I knew that a doggy would be work. It’s like “owning” a baby that just never grows up. The work I could totally handle! There are two parents here and this will make our family unit perfectly complete. Yes, yes. A new little child was just what we needed.

Requirements: any kind, but lab preferred, any color, aged 2-4, potty trained, a rescue doggy. Growing up, we had always rescued dogs. There are just too many doggies out there that need a good home to have someone MAKE one just for me.

Early one Saturday morning, we arrived at an adoption day for labs at the local Petsmart. We were sure that we really wanted a doggy and all the responsibilities that came with one. But what I didn’t know when we got out of the car that morning was that we would be carrying one home by afternoon.

We walked around and said hello to all the doggies. We heard their stories. Some of them very tragic. I totally would have taken the poor doggy home that had the list of 305 health problems and just needed a good place to live out his golden years if KH hadn’t stopped me. We stopped in front of this chocolate dog. Spoke to the handler, and fifteen minutes later, we were in the Petsmart buying supplies to ready him for his new home.

What the f*@%? Who in their right mind thought it would be ok for us to walk away with this dog?

Indeed, two short hours later, the newest Kimono family member was sitting in the back seat of my SUV looking at me like he was some kind of pimp with two new bitches that he had to handle. Oh yes, he took over immediately.

The rescue people had named him Chocko. How dreadfully original of them. Kimono Hubby and I immediately set out to remedy the name situation on the way home. I mean, he only had the other one for something like ten minutes. How bad could it be to screw with our new baby’s mind and change it to something cool and thug like? Remember, doggies are like practice for the real thing so let’s get some of the screwing up out of the way.

One name was spoken. One name was accepted. And he was reborn as Bruiser.

You know that no other name is adequate if you have met this dog. He is weighs a full 75 pounds (ok, maybe he peeked over 100 that one time but I still feel that he really needed all those cookies!). He has massive paws that he uses to stomp your piggy toes into the ground with as he is anxiously circling you. He is about as maladroit as a lab could come.

Bruiser seemed hesitant but cool in his new pad. He checked things out and we made a few house rules, none of which we ever did keep as Bruiser really did rule the roost. Day one went by relatively smoothly. We stared at him quizzically and he stared back. Day two, all hell broke loose.

We had been told that he was food aggressive. They had found him as a stray and a little on the meager side from his dumpster diving days. It was understandable that he would feel slightly possessive of his new chow. But no one told us he was mildly couch aggressive and didn’t share at all and that he was a complete Alpha Male. With one in the house already (and I mean me), the house was not nearly big enough for two. But we worked together and over time we became friends. He never was a much of a hugger though. Really kind of hated it. That doesn’t bode well for someone who wants to strangle hug their puppy and give them big kisses. Not to mention that he had a slight attitude and peed on the floor on a daily basis for two months. And that was right after you spent a half an hour walking him. Spiteful is my little Sir Nastiness.

But my puppy love is big! So we worked at it together. There were some tears. There was some shouting. There was even some reverse psychology attempted (probably more him on me). But at the end of the day, there was love.

So the decision to leave my puppy behind when we found out we were moving was a terribly hard one.

I know you all probably think me a terrible mom right now. I mean, you wouldn’t move to Japan without your human child so how could you, you cold, heartless bitch?!

Honestly, Bruiser couldn’t handle it. Many of our big problems with him came after we bought our first home and moved in. We only moved four miles. He destroyed the house and I am still scared every day that I didn’t get all the pee out of the carpet and every potential buyer can smell it. He destroyed my SUV. He chewed panel covers off the wall and then the walls themselves when the covers were gone. He is a bit of an anxious traveler, I guess you could say. I load him up with natural mood relaxer treats and it still doesn’t help. Just makes him fall over every time we go into a turn. The vet suggested puppy Prozac but my Just-Say-No-to-all-drugs-including-that-damn-killer-Tylenol! husband gave me a big “fat chance.” To even attempt a fifteen hour plane ride to Japan with him would be senseless and reckless. Bruiser could hurt someone. Or even worse, himself. And I would never forgive myself.

So my puppy has moved back to my parent’s home in the country to stay until we move back to the states and he can once again live with us. He has two friends he lives with now, Rush (Limbaugh) and Rusty, one black and one yellow lab respectively. How awesome is it that my daddy now houses a lab in every color?! Well, I thought it was a good selling point when I asked him to keep him for us anyway.

It is so quiet here without Bru. In the morning when my alarm goes off, no one jumps of the couch, of which he isn’t supposed to be on, to come running up the stairs and hang out with me as I get ready for the day. I sometimes think I hear his collar jingling. But it turns out to be Kimono Hubby’s chain. (GOLD with a cross – not that I keep my husband on a chain! Although what an awesome idea.) I miss that my Bru-sie isn’t here following me around everywhere I go. I miss that he doesn’t bark every time a doorbell sounds in a commercial. (He wasn’t necessarily the brightest. What robber rings the damn doorbell, Bruiser?) I miss his soft and lovely ears that I could rub and rub until the world became a better place.

I’m so glad he is someplace safe. I’m so glad he is waiting for us. And I’m so glad that every time I go back home, I get to see his big brown, loving eyes again. Hopefully he understands that I did this with affection in my heart. Hopefully he knows that I am loving him and hugging him every day in my prayers.