 |
Buster Doolittle | |||||||||||
| ||||||||||||
Music to accompany this page:
| ||||||||||||
Buster, properly known as Buster Doolittle, and casually referred to as Dufus, is a bichon frise. He was born on December 16, 1992. The first time that I saw him, he resembled a little snowman, with his snow white fluffy fur, and deep chocolate brown eyes, and coal nose. He was so tiny that he was able to snuggle warmly inside my coat as we ventured outside for our trip home. During the first couple of weeks in his new home, he remained rather quiet, favoring the corner near the front door, and allowing the yorkie to be the head dog of the house. Visitors were known to say that he didn't have a personality, but they didn't realize that Buster was watching the other pup, and learning. Over the weeks, Buster slowly developed a voice, which I sometimes wish he hadn't! He showed an enthusiasm for everyone that came within earshot of him, and his tail began waving like a flowing "surrender" flag, letting you know that he was ready to partake in any loving and attention that you wanted to share. Buster discovered that he had definite likes and dislikes. Among his favorites, a certain rubber hamburger toy, known to him as "fetch." And During the end of summer in the following year, children in the neighborhood decided that Buster should "marry" the little yorkie pup, that had become his closest friend, and constant companion. They made not only a beaded dress and veil for her, but also a tuxedo for Buster. The guest list included some of Buster and Spikes dearest canine friends and their Masters and Mistresses, and lavish invitations were sent out. The kids helped the pups with their vows, and then hosted a small "reception." Buster seems to know and understand the mood of the humans around him. When I'm not feeling well, he sits quietly beside me on the chair. After a long day at the office, he is right at the front door, jumping like he has springs in his legs, as he barks out a "Welcome home!". And during times when things are blue, he starts to chase his tail, knowing that it will make me erupt in laughter. He loves the sound of laughter, and strives to keep happiness within the house. Buster does not have the show cut that is common among bichon frises that compete, and which you often see in photographs. Instead, he has soft, gentle curls that are cropped short, to allow for the running and playing activities that are a part of his daily life. This doesn't mean that his appearance isn't of importance to him. Not in the least! He playfully fights with the yorkie to be the first when it's time to be brushed. Other bichon frise owners have told me of the intelligence of their dogs, and it seems to be a trait of the breed. I had to resort to spelling out words such as "treat," "ride" and "car" because of the excitement it brought to Buster everytime he heard those words, and thought they were directed towards him. Unfortunately, he learned to spell though. I'm just waiting for him to realize that "snack," "drive" and "auto" mean the same thing! Buster has become a very important part of my household. It's hard to even imagine what it would be like if he had never come to live here. I'm just thankful for being in the right place at the right time, and meeting this puppy that would bring so much joy into my life. | ||||||||||||
|
Find this book and many more, available at discount prices at:
| ||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||
|
| ||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||
|
| ||||||||||||
This Web Site and its contents (eg. HTML, design and images) are the property of Angelsmist. Please notify the author if you wish to use any of the contents or images. | ||||||||||||
On February 13, 1993 I made a stop to pick up food for the pets that were living in my house. Little did I know that I would be picking up a puppy also! The house was already filled with an abundance of animals... four dwarf bunnies, three lovebirds, two parakeets, and a yorkie puppy. But it was love at first site, and their was no question that he was meant to come join the menagerie.
nothing beats a pig ear as a special treat. His favorite place to rest is either on my recliner, keeping it warm for me, or perched on the back of the sofa, in a catlike fashion.
