As per Stephen's suggestion, I shall undertake an evaluation of my dog (well, she's a fixed bitch, to be more precise), Libby Swaim.
Pros: responds to dozens of different names (created on a whim), high fives, endless amusement, amazing underbite, the perfect conglomerate of pig/hyena/mule, "free"
Cons: rotting Dorito smell, obstinate, constantly scratches self/sludges own vagina, medical expenses, incessantly attempts to hump Cat Stevens (our cat), underbite tends to get in the way of licking and gives the sensation of biting
If my mind serves me right, Libby entered Matt and my household in late September of 2005. We had been mulling over the idea of buying a canine, and specifically an English Bulldog, but found them to be pricey and out of our range at the time ($1500-2300). While at work one day, Matt mentioned to a co-worker his interest in the slobbery breed when, to his surprise, he was offered one.
You see, Libby, like so many of the young in the Western world, is a victim of that particular plague known as divorce. When her owner, who loved her, moved out from the house of her now-ex-husband she could not move Libby to her new apartment with her. In order to get back at his estranged wife, the now-ex-husband left Libby to rot in her cage for six straight months, feeding her the bare minimum to survive and forcing her to defecate all over herself. Over those long six months, Libby's nails grew out so long that they punctured the pads of her feet and started coming out the top. According to vet records which we were able to secure at the time of her release to us, before the separation she weighed 56 pounds. When we got her, she weighed a mere 38 pounds. If you think obese bulldogs are odd-looking, imagine a starved one. She also was suffering from a yeast infection, a urinary tract infection, and severe mange when she first came into our house.
The night we were able to rescue her, we took her straight to the emergency vet clinic, where we dropped a couple hundred that night, and a several more in the coming months, on Libby's physical, emergency treatments, and meds. We fed her straight-up peanut butter and generally worked hard at trying to fatten her up and get her healthy. In the first couple months we had her, we had to explain to every person we passed on the sidewalks in our little german village neighborhood of Mainstasse, Covington, Kentucky that we were not animal abusers. Probably unwisely, the first night she stayed with us I hoisted the scabby, mangy, infection-laden bitch into bed with me.
Now, about ten months later, Libby is a fixture of the household. She has been declared the favorite of the dog boutique down the street (no, we're not THOSE dog owners and no, they don't just tell that to everyone...) and has gained about twelve pounds, although I'd still like to see a couple more on her. We are still working on the skin issues, but she is an entirely different looking animal (I wish I could supply 'before' pictures). So, should I keep her? Well despite Jon's insistence that she is a bastardization of the noble wolf (could that be because of that nip to the ankle?), her penchant for occasionally fouling my rug, her constant - according to Matt - smell of rotting Doritos, and the personality of a mule, I will keep her.
Rating: 8.9/10
p.s. I'd like to get her stuffed when she dies. Anyone have the card for a good taxidermist?
p.p.s. If you would like to research attaining a rescue Ug of your own
Colleen_, ColleenPets_
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