Boo
Boo’s Story
One sunny afternoon back in May 2022 Nancy Tarbox sent me a text message, “Any chance you are up for fostering or adopting a pup?”
It had been a few months since we lost our first Vizsla, Zephyr. We still had our second rescue V, Atticus, who was a challenging dog in many ways, but much loved and always improving his behavior. After some negotiations with the rest of the family an agreement to foster to see how Atticus reacted was formed at home.
“How soon, in a couple of weeks, or,” laughter, “tomorrow?” I asked. The answer was tomorrow or the day after, and that there were several dogs looking for homes, that they were in Vermont, that the situation had been bad and some other details. I chose a juvenile female rather than a puppy (who I thought might be bullied by Atticus) of indeterminate age (2-4) and jumped in to the car two days later to drive to the Humane Society in Vermont who were holding the dogs. My wife’s words echoed in my mind, “Only bring one back!” I hadn’t considered the possibility of taking two Vs, and I fought the desire to disobey the instruction for the whole drive.
When I arrived I was shown Veronic (as she was briefly named). A sweet, nervous, but highly pliable, beautiful vizsla; we took a few minutes in a pen to check eachother out was all I needed. “Do I need to sign for her, or?” but I was told Stephanie would handle all of that.
I took her to the car and it was clear she was not sure about what to do, so I lifted her in and the journey home began. Not a natural passenger, she was restless and soon vomited. I cleaned up, she settled a little and we made the rest of the journey home without incident. Once home after a short debate on names we decided on Boo as an everyday name (a Harper Lee theme) and Boudica (for more formal occasions, and the warrior queen aspect seemed apt).
She settled in quickly and seemed to tolerate Atticus’s occasional moodiness, didn’t mind sharing her things, was very keen on chewing everything from socks to boots to, eventually, furniture. Her chewing skills have made it as far as the TV remote, a kindle and even a couple of formerly comfortable leather chairs. One day I arrived home from some errands, and the chair that she’d nibbled at a corner of, had been disemboweled like a rabbit, its entrails all over the living room floor. My daughter remarked, “What's funny is she’s stopped halfway through; at some point she must have observed the mess and thought, ‘Good enough, my work here is done.’ Like most insane people I moved the second chair of its type into the room expecting a different result, but was to be disappointed. Fortunately I was prevented from further errors of judgment by a lack of chairs of this type to experiment with.
Her early walks were taken on a long line, as I had been instructed, in the woods next to our house. There are a few hundred acres to explore, and quite quickly is was clear that although she had a keen nose she liked to be within my sight. Prematurely I allowed her off-leash, and although she’d occasionally go exploring out of my range with Atticus, she never went far and checked-in regularly. Atticus seemed to enjoy having a new playmate to explore with, early on it was clear they were going to be pals, notwithstanding Atticus’s occasional moodiness. On occasion he hassles other dogs, barking at them; mostly he just wasn’t to play, sometimes other dogs don’t like this and refuse, which makes him bark more. Boo quickly understood what was going on with him, and after a little persuasion, wrestles with him when demanded. It’s a very sweet scene.
It took about five minutes in the bedroom before Boo assumed her rightful throne, on the bed, under the covers. The softest fur and her warm body being more than welcome there- it’s never been Atticus’s spot, but was Zephyr’s. Nice to have a dog back in the bed, even one who was not yet quite housetrained.
There were a few accidents early on, both in the bed and around the house, but Boo is a quick study and got the hang of letting us know when she needed to go outside rather than just picking a comfy spot somewhere on the carpet to annoint. Other than the bed, always the carpet; carpet surrounded by wooden floors, I should note, but on the carpet, without fail.
Initially she didn’t bark. At all. It was an odd thing, Atticus is highly vocal, a habit I think he learned from Zephyr. Mailman? Bark. Mailman driving back up the street? Bark. Squirrel? Bark. Chipmonk? Bark bark bark. But silence from Boo. At least, for the first couple of weeks. I asked Nancy about this and she suggested that because she’d been in a poor situation before she might have learned that barking doesn’t fix anything (smart dog, it’s taken me 50 years to notice this, and even now…). Smart dogs learn stuff though, and with the encouragement of her packmate she is now a woofer, though thankfully not quite as vocal as the boy.
Several weeks after she joined us she had what was to be her final heat. Atticus, although a fixed male, was driven to distraction by the hormones he was picking up which led to many hilarious moments as he tried to cover her, and one particularly awkward moment of priapic-phimosis which would have caused an emergency vet visit had I not, with the help of gritted teeth and some vaseline, managed to resheath his excitement, and incident which no doubt caused Boo some amusement and he and I have agreed never to discuss.
Ultimately Boo has settled in with us, is a happy dog, is still soft and the most pliable hound I’ve ever met. I will be forever grateful for having the opportunity to have met her, and all of your support when she had her accident. Stephanie and Nancy (and others) have given me a gift I will never be able to repay, though when I can, I try to pass forward some of the good fortune. Boo is a wonderful dog, tough when necessary but still gentle and soft with it. Everyone who knows her loves her.
Barnaby