Britney was adopted last November at Dane's demand. We did not need another dog. The very last thing we needed, in my mind, was another dog. Two kids, two dogs, a cat, a husband undergoing chemo, a house and a job were already more than enough for me, thank you. Mr. 1inamillion, however, doesn't always play fair. It's very difficult to argue with a cancer patient. He had big sad brown eyes and a desire for a dog just like the one from his childhood. No way I could win this one. So off we went to the Humane Society and to home we returned with a boxer.
She was seven and a half years old. The people that brought her in had not had her very long. They had taken her to help out a friend but could not keep her. They reported that she peed on the furniture and hated cats. Britney did not seem at all interested in us when we met her. She just sat by the door and didn't approach us. She didn't really come when we called her and didn't want to play. Lots of BIG red flags. Dane was completely confident that she would get along fine with Chloe (the cat) as well as Harley and Bruiser (the dogs). The helpful adoption assistant thought we could crate train her and no harm would be done to the furniture. Super.
We left the Humane Society with the boxer laying beneath the kids' feet. We drove through Burger King for supper--which made me incredibly nervous--but she didn't budge. She showed no interest in the kids or their food. We stopped at Petco and spent an obscene amount of money on a large dog crate. Looking for my silver lining along the way, I decided that maybe this bigger dog could help keep me on track working out.
I've spent a lot of time wondering about the first 49+ years of her life. She is incredibly mellow, unlike any dog I had ever had. That is until she is on a leash and it's time to run. The first time I took her for a walk, she took me for a run and I began to call her my personal trainer. She gets excited when it's time to run and has corralled me to the door on several mornings. Her tail starts to wiggle when she sees me in work out gear and she starts to dance when I get the leash. Time to run for Britney means just that. She has never ventured off course. Nothing distracts her and I don't think she would choose to stop on her own. She is my four legged treadmill. Once she's on the leash it's like Forrest Gump. We nearly encountered a skunk on a pre-dawn run in Douglass one day. I was so very grateful for Brit's focus that morning. She didn't approach it and we made it by before it noticed us, returning home with just our own hard-earned stink. The only thing this dog wants from me is for me to put myself on the list and take her for a run. Mr. 1inamillion was right, we needed this dog. She is my stress relief and I adore her.
She doesn't do well with containment. The ridiculously expensive dog crate proved to be a complete waste of money. It is quite possible that Brit is Houdini reincarnated. She managed to wiggle her way out of that crate more than once. We have no idea how she could have done it as the doors were still latched, yet she escaped it but left no messes. She's perfectly content as long as she has the option to roam a bit.
It has been very clear to us that whomever had Britney first loved her very much. She is a bit of a princess and is clearly a dog who had a person. I wonder what made them part ways and I think she still might miss them. Honestly, I would love to find that person and give them Bruiser for a while. Brit is so well behaved.
She's never demonstrated a true love of the cats, but she's never proven otherwise, either. I once watched MC pounce Britney in the face three times. After the third pounce, Brit lifted her head and looked at me as if to say "Are you going to fix this or am I?" Because everyone else seems to love the Mangy Cat, I shooed him outside to leave her in peace. We did struggle with peeing on the furniture as her paperwork had warned, but that was just until we realized it only happened where she sleeps. One trip to the vet and she was put on pills for incontinence which has completely taken care of that little inconvenience.
Britney has made a few jumps over the fence at the new house. Guilty as charged. She didn't venture far and was perfectly sweet with the people she encountered. The first Sunday after our move, we came home to see her tagging along with the man next door as he mowed his lawn. A young couple brought her and Bruiser home after their adventure through the neighborhood. Brit has greeted the family across the park as cordially as can be. I own our containment issue. I unlawfully let my dog run free in the city. Whatever.
I do not believe, however, that the sweet mellow soul that is Brit charged at and bit someone. Friends, family and neighbors that have met her do not believe it either. My father came to her rescue that day and saw the alleged bite. It apparently looked like a small scratch. Perhaps the man was scared and tried to kick her and caught a paw. That I believe.
Dangerous and Vicious? Not guilty. So not guilty. That old man is probably a cat person. A scaredy cat person that scared my dog. I sure hope the judge isn't.
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