From commentor Comrade Scott’s Agenda of Rage:
I could write a story on Bozo himself. He was dumped along the river here (weekend homes inhabited mostly by assholes) and wandered into town. He had all 4 legs back then. The old guy uphill from us took him in. Said old guy and dog lived in squalor for years. Bozo was allowed to roam around town and had an annoying habit of snoozing in the street.
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One day, the UPS truck makes a delivery and backs over poor ole Boze. The leg wasn’t broken so the hope was that perhaps the nerves would grow back. After 8 months of lugging a dead limb around town, it was clear they wouldn’t. So, the old guy, who didn’t have a pot to piss in, went ahead and had the leg amputated and eventually paid off the vet. That was, oh, maybe 7 years ago.
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We eventually started taking care of the old guy, Bozo and his two cats. Boze had mange, a hemotoma in one ear, and chronic skin allergies from years of living on ice cream, hot dogs and hamburgers; the old guy loved the dog damn near to death. The missing leg is the least of his problems. He’s also blind in that eye on the same side, again, probably nerve damage stemming from UPS—What Can Brown Do *To* You!
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About 4 1/2 years ago, the old guy was finally cajoled into moving out of his house, he was about 79-80 at the time. We promised to find homes for his cats and agreed to take in the dog, our first dog after being married almost 25 years. The old guy went into an assisted living home and we’d take Bozo to visit him pretty regularly. After 2 years, his health declined and he went into a nursing home for about a year. Again, we’d take Boze out to visit him. He passed away earlier this year and is buried in the non-denominational cemetery (the other one is for Catholics only) nearby. When Bozo’s time comes, we plan on cremating him and burying his ashes up there.
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A stubborn, loveable dog who’s probably around 12 now and acts like he won’t live to see 13. He loves kittens. We routinely let our foster broods out and he’ll nuzzle them, lick their bellies, etc…after they get over their initial fear of a big dog. Attached is one of the more friendly fosters attacking the old guy. He sucked it up.
something fabulous
Wow! You guys are good people.
something fabulous
Wow! Quiet morning shift, too…
WereBear
Awww! He provides such a useful service; teaching your foster kittens that dogs are to be sat upon!
Kinda sad about the old guy; there’s love & then there’s care. Now Bozo has both. But he was lucky all along, I guess.
WereBear
I’m up because the kitten and the partner FINALLY went to sleep, and I have to make sure one doesn’t wake up the other…
Tattoosydney
Squee @ old, upside down dawg.
something fabulous
It is finally cooled off around here enough that me and the kittehs might be able to go to sleep ourselves. Phew. G’Night to all us chip-bump-and-dent animal lovers!
Xboxershorts
Damn you! There’s something in my eye now!
Xboxershorts
Tru story, had friends rented a farm house outside Rochester, brought in a big golden mutt named Bud. He got hit by a car, wound up losing a front leg, changed his name to Bud light.
Brown ran over my sister’s dog. He was sleeping in the sun in his own driveway. Mangled that poor thing into lasagna, it was gross. His name was Buddy also. Miss him, he was a goofy loveable big mutt.
Brown bastard drove like an asshole
What can brown “do” to you is so appropriate.
stuckinred
“Blessed is the person who has earned the love of an old dog.”
– Sydney Jeanne Seward
SiubhanDuinne
Sorry for a sad O/T but Tony Curtis has died. RIP. I think I’ll watch Some Like it Hot this weekend.
WereBear
Speaking of Brown, we used to run a home business and had a driver who seemed like an okay guy. He claimed to be afraid of our Malamute mix, Roscoe, so we obligingly put him behind a closed door when the truck arrived.
One day the guy seemed to be in a hurry, and yanked open the screen door to come into our home without checking on the dog’s location… who happened to be right there and stuck his head out the door.
Driver claimed Roscoe had bitten him.
So the homeowner’s insurance investigator comes, I let her in, she sits down and is petting Roscoe, and asks me, “So where’s the biting dog?”
It was my extreme pleasure to inform her that she was petting him.
Roscoe was kinda absolved, we had no problem with police or anything, The guy did get a check from our insurance, because they don’t take these things to court.
Made us wonder, though. We asked for another driver.
SiubhanDuinne
@Tattoo Sydney:
Wait, wait, aren’t *all* dogs upside down for you?
stuckinred
@SiubhanDuinne: He’s better in Spartacus.
birthmarker
You write so well, Comrade Scott’s AOR. The detail about which of the two cemetaries the fellow was buried in is the stuff of interesting novels.
General Stuck
One the best rescue stories ever. The cat on dog pic is precious.
jurassicpork
There’s something lovable, even inspiring, about tripods. Somehow they just soldier on ad adapt to whatever adversity life throws their way.
Look, we’re gonna have a tough time making the rent tomorrow. Anything you kind people could do to help would be greatly appreciated. More details are here or here.
Southern Beale
Awwww…
That little kitten is a dead ringer for our rescue Etta, who showed up on our back porch with her sister Ella.
Tattoosydney
@SiubhanDuinne:
Only the one in the second photo… I did wonder why you were all so happy that the dog was lying on top of the cute little cat.
comrade scott's agenda of rage
Thanks for everybody’s kind words. I just got done letting Bozo out for his morning constitutional. Then I put socks back on his feet so he won’t chew them to a pulp. The Sher Pei in him has meant nothing but skin problems that will be with him until the day he dies.
True story about the two cemetaries: the family that owned our B&B for 80 years founded the non-denominational cemetary back in the early part of the 1900s. Why? Apparently the patriarch of the family had a falling out with the parish priest and physically assaulted him (yanked his beard). The priest then excommunicated him (didn’t know priests could do that). The patriarch, who had donated the land for the Catholic cemetery said something to the effect of “I’ll be damned if I’ll be buried amongst the rest of you” and then created a new cemetary.
Which my wife and I also caretake. Ugh. We’ll probably hafta bury Boze’s ashes at night up there. Why do I have a vision of that scene from ‘Young Frankenstein’ running thru my head? Oh yeah, now I know why. We live 6 miles down the road from the only Frankenstein in the US. Srzly.
Kristine
That’s a great story. Skritch Bozo’s ears for me.
You are good people.
HRA
Great story -there should be more people like you.
Also, Brown should be the recipient of everyone’s experiences with them. Personally, I found going to the top with a problem works the best.
asiangrrlMN
@comrade scott’s agenda of rage: You really are good people. That’s a lovely story, and Bozo is a great dog. He seems to be a great foster brudder, too.
P.S. Love the story about the cemetery, too.
@Tattoosydney: Funny as hell, FH#1. Nice riposte to a great snarky comment.
@Southern Beale: Awwww! Etta and Ella are both dolls!
JAHILL10
Wonderful story, not only for how you’ve taken care of that big ole doofus doggie (sleeping in the street!) but for how you helped out your neighbor in need. It’s easier to help innocents (pets) harder and more complicated to help people. The world needs more people like you. Thank you!
Moses2317
Here’s my new blog post about the Democratic record of making college more affordable
Winning Progressive
Tattoosydney
@asiangrrlMN:
Hi there – how you? Are you up early or still awake at an unseemly hour?
Carnacki
What a great story!
JenJen
What’s this, then? I come to this bleg to laugh about the Steelers and the Firebaggers and James O’Keefe, and it helps make my day a little brighter, but now I’m reduced to tears after reading this story.
Thank you, Comrade Scott. I mean that.
LT
That story makes me want to say Yum. Good job, Comrade, and rub that Boze’s belly for me, okay?
You Don't Say
Oh, man, what a great dog. And you too, Comrade, for being good to him and his former caretaker.
LT
Hey, in the late 70s my Dad got laid off. I think him and Mom had all eleven kids by then. Not a good time. Dad was suddenly home in the morning when we were getting ready for school, in the kitchen, hung over. I was fifteen or so and weill my own hangover period. Weird stuff. Anyway Dad gets a job pumping gas – unbelievable – and takes our good old shephard mutt Hildi, maybe six years old, with him every day. Wicked busy intersection on the edge of Buffalo. One day Hildi lays down behind a car getting filled. Car backs out over Hildi. Hildi yowls and jumps up, runs into the street, gets hit by car, gets up and runs, gets hit by car coming the other way. Gets up runs – my Dad standing, running, I don’t know. Hidli’s gone.
Three days later Hildi walks up our driveway, about three miles from the gas station. She crossed I-90 somehow, a small river, creeks. Her nose pointed straight out like it was supposed to, but her bottom jaw was going a different direction. Who knows what was going on with her insides. My Dad said she had to be put down. My brother-in-law Jack said she was fine and he took Hildi home. She lived another five years or so, a crooked-faced, ever-loving to me and my sibs, pretty grouchy very good dog.
Thanks for reminding me.
asiangrrlMN
@Tattoosydney: I was up early. My schedule is completely and utterly fucked.
Joy
I’m so glad you continued taking Boze to visit “the old man.” I would lose my mind if I did not have my dog and cat. Can’t imagine life without them.