Froggie!

Each morning before work, I spend a few minutes (5-10 minutes on FB is all I can handle) scrolling through Facebook.  I look at dozens of beautiful animals who are in desperate need of homes, I post a few and cry about them all.  I would love to take all of them, but the reality is that we have a house full, and I can't take on more than I can afford medical care for, and I can't take on so many that the quality of life for those I have already committed to suffers.

Every now and then, for reasons I can't necessarily explain, I know that one of the little faces I see belongs in our family.  When this happens, I give myself a time limit (I have many  rules established that prevent me from acting rashly. They are all very necessary.), and if the animal is still available, I proceed.  I saw and posted Froggie's picture in mid May, the week before finals week.  I was at my absolute busiest, so I decreed that I would wait until after finals were done, and if he was still unclaimed, I would go for it.

So I waited the proscribed time period, found he was still there, and the family (along with Daisy, Jezebel, and Damon) went to the Humane Society to meet him.  I knew when I saw his strange, mis-shapen body, and so-ugly-it's-cute face, that I was in love and this was happening.  Then we brought Jezebel, the easiest, most laid-back of the dogs, in to meet him.  He started barking wildly, charging at her, and smashing his flat little face into her side.  It was strange.  It seemed rather aggressive, but Jezi wasn't responding as if he were trying to attack.  The young man who worked there said that he had behaved this way with the other dogs he had met, and wasn't adopted because of it.  We spent over an hour outside with the dogs, watching their interactions, running and walking with them as a group, and trying to assess the situation.  I asked for Rachel to come out (she's an amazing employee there, and a vegan animal-rights' activist, so I trust her opinion completely) and help me assess the interaction. She agreed with me that it looked sort of aggressive, but yet not really, and the other dogs didn't seem to read it as hostile.  Her confirmation was all I needed--I felt certain that since I'm home in the summer, I could spend the next few weeks getting everyone socialized and things would work out fine.

We left with Froggie--Dej and I were feeling pretty good about it, but Mark & Luce were not very happy about him coming home. They felt he would upset the other dogs.  M, L, and the other dogs arrived home before Dej, Froggie, and me. I was braced for a couple of weeks of hyper observation and training, so we came in the house very apprehensively.  Froggie did not, however. He trotted in, walked right up to the other dogs, and they all sniffed each other as if they were old friends.  From that moment on, he was the most perfect little pack member. They have not had any interpersonal issues at all.  We were thrilled and pleasantly surprised by the immediately peaceful, happy family.

We discovered right away that when Froggie can't see humans, he cries, and when Froggie cries, it sounds like a goat being strangled.  He makes the strangest noises I have ever heard from a dog.

His post-surgical outfit (better than a cone)

We knew when we adopted him that his teeth were a mess--full of cracks and abscesses, and many needed to be removed.  We also discovered at his first vet check that he had a malignant growth.  That was a nasty surprise.  We had pre-surgical bloodwork done, and the good news was that his organ function and over all health were good.  We scheduled the dental and mass removal surgery for the first available time.  The surgery was successful on both fronts, and he should have many quality years left with us.

The Humane Society estimated his age at 10.8 years, and our vet said 12 years, so he's definitely up there in years.  He has a ton of energy and is still very silly and playful.  He's now cancer free (clean margins, so a really good prognosis) with a clean healthy mouth, and he's really enjoying life.

He was brought into the Humane Society as a stray, which really means some asshole wanted to dump him without paying the dumping fee.  Because of that selfish, thoughtless human, poor Froggie not only lost his home but his name and medical history.  Froggie is not a runner.  He sticks so closely to me that when I stop, he runs into my ankle. While Froggie hadn't had vet care for probably several years (at least), I think he was loved and treated kindly in his past life. I see no signs of abuse or neglect in him at all.  I'm pretty certain he had a nice life, but his person died/entered long-term care/divorced--something that left Froggie suddenly in the care of someone who didn't want him and subsequently cruelly dumped him.  Froggie was the name given at the HS. I was planning to change it to Pierre, as he didn't know the name at all, but as it turned out, Froggie fit him so perfectly that we stuck with it.

While I love all dogs, I have a definite preference for medium-to-large-size dogs and have never had a small dog.  He's < 15 pounds (a pug-Boston terrier mix), so he's quite small.  I'm thoroughly enjoying having a little "yip-yip" dog.  I feel pretty lucky to have such a mix of sizes and personalities!  He gets along with all of the dogs, including his extended family--Sophie (Dej's dog) and Nala and Ziva (my parents' dogs).  He's especially fond of Damon and Sophie.  Damon is laid back and doesn't mind when Froggie drapes himself across Damon's body, or uses him as a support so he can stand on his hind legs.  Froggie pays back these favors by grooming Damon's face, ears, and feet, quite elaborately.  Damon loves it, and it's pretty entertaining to watch. Frog takes it very seriously and is so thorough about getting every part of his face and ears, and Damon's head is about the same size as Froggie, while Damon's feet are about the size of Froggie's head. Frog also loves Sophie quite passionately, but she's a diva and is not impressed.  She will gladly allow him to groom her face and ears, but never returns the favor.

He has some quirks.  He's stubborn.  So stubborn.  He turns into a little hurricane of naughtiness 15-30 minutes before breakfast and dinner. He has an internal clock that seems to really rev him up before meals. He starts tearing around looking for excitement--shredding tissues, chasing cats, dragging shoes (which he leaves in strange places and we have to hunt for them), attacking his teddy bear, all while making a cacophony of grunting and goat noises.  This is not my favorite way to be awakened in the mornings, but it's really entertaining.