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Ginger's Story
In January, 1993, I got a call from my daughter-in-law. "I was telling a guy here at work about your dogs. He said his in-laws have one they want to get rid of." she told me. "I called them to make sure it was really a Basenji. She wants to know if you can come get her today." She gave me what information she was able to learn from the owners of the dog, along with their phone number. From what she told me, I knew I would have to do something for the dog. These people had apparently bought her at a flea market from a couple traveling through the area. They weren't allowed to have the dog where they were staying, so, just like that, they had turned her over to her present owners. She was now living outdoors on a chain because she "didn't like the grandchildren and she chewed plastic". I called the number and ascertained this really was a Basenji. I questioned the owners about her history. They had owned her for over a year and were somehow under the impression she had come from Australia. She was two years old. The man assured me all her shots were up to date, and he had the records. They also had her registration papers. I asked him some questions. The more I heard about her situation, the more certain I was that I would have to go get her right away. "Get all her paperwork together. I'll be there in an hour" I told them. All the way there, I prayed this dog hadn't been ruined by ill treatment and neglect, and that I wouldn't be faced with the decision of putting her to sleep because she wasn't placeable.
The home was in the country. The dog was chained near the driveway. She had been moved from farther back in a wooded area so she would be ready to go. My first thought on seeing her was "oh no, this is the ugliest dog I have ever seen, but definitely a Basenji". My next thought as the man brought her closer was "aacck, she has mange!". As the man put her in the crate I had brought in the back of my station wagon, she yodelled at him plaintively as if to say "love me please!". He told me what a good dog she was, and how they had kept her so long because they wanted to find her a "good home". I explained again that I would not be keeping her myself, but would make sure she had a good home. "Much better than she's had here!" I thought.
If it had not been winter and cold outside, I would have driven home with the windows down. I had never known a Basenji to have an odor, but she smelled horrible. Once home, I opened the crate and clipped on a leash. She hopped to the ground and ran straight to the front door with every indication of being home. First order of business was a bath and dip for mange. She submitted to everything I did to her with nary a grumble. The shot records I had been given showed one round of puppy shots at six weeks; nothing else. The registration paper listed a breeder in Michigan. I spoke to her on the phone and pieced together what I could about Ginger's history. She had been in three homes by the time she was two years old. The breeder was glad to know she was safe, and she sent me a photo of her mother and sister. I have never heard from her again.
Ginger's mange healed, her hair grew in and the beautiful dog she really was began to emerge. This was a show quality dog! Her pedigree revealed some very famous bloodlines. She was so sweet and so grateful to be with us, that there was never any question of her leaving. My husband named her FOURTHTIMELUCKY AT TENNOAKS because she had finally found home.
She got along well with all our other Basenjis. However, when on a leash, away from home, she was very defensive with strange dogs. We joined a handling class for socialization. She loved pretending to be a show dog! She was a natural. I took her to her first dog show along with Dixie. Dixie was Best of Breed that day and Ginger won a large open class and Reserve Winners Bitch in a major size entry. But I had seen the fear in her eyes as the judge examined her on the table. We tried once more and she just couldn't handle the table examination. She'd been through too much in her life all ready, so she was retired before she really got started.
She has a few personality quirks.
She really doesn't like children. She doesn't care much for the vet. But
she's otherwise outgoing, friendly, and well behaved for a Basenji.
Oh yes, she still chews plastic, but so what, the other Basenjis do, too.
Ginger is proof that the Basenji spirit will endure through ignorance,
ill treatment, and neglect and still blossom with a little love and care.
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