The Story of Pippin - Part II

By Sunday of the first week in her new home Princess seemed a little more confident, so I untied the umbilical cord and let her have the run of the house. She was still jumping out of her skin at any sudden noise--and Jerry is very noisy, especially in the kitchen. She seemed to be as curious as any cat, would run when frightened, but then go back and peek around the kitchen counter to see what was going on. I began unhooking the leash when she went outside into the fenced yard, but stayed at the sunroom windows to watch. The doggie door is still a mystery to her and I decided not to encourage her to learn its secrets until later. Very wise decision, as it turned out.

The next day, Monday, the temperature had risen enough to allow Princess and Rufus to frequently go outside and race around the very soggy yard. I decided one time it was safe to leave my post at the sunroom window and take care of something simmering in the kitchen. I was gone probably 5 minutes. When I came back to my post, I could see Rufus, but not a sign of a little red and white dog. I ran out and looked all over the back yard, but could find not a sign of her. I went around the building to see if I could find her-- not a trace.

To have a basenji on the loose is not a good thing. Once they start running, nothing stops them short of a fast-moving vehicle. That is always the great fear. Many years ago we lost our first little basenji that way and I wouldn't wish that experience on any dog or dog lover. So I grabbed my boots and coat and dashed out the door, ran around the outside of the property, and looked in all directions. I was particularly nervous because Route 25A runs close to my house and the cars and trucks were coming and going. But still there was not a sign of Princess.

At just that moment, Jerry came back from a trip to the post office to mail Christmas packages. We looked everywhere together, but there was not a trace of her. He got back in the car and drove all over the development and I walked alongside Route 25A with my heart in my mouth. That's a much--traveled county road running through the center of Piqua, across the Great Miami River in Ohio. Just a little west of here, between this bedroom community and the river, traffic from I-75 enters and exits onto 25A. I walked east along 25A. I could see in the distance an object just about the color of Princess lying in the deep ditch beside the road. By this time I was almost running and panicked by what I knew I might find. When I got close enough, I was incredibly relieved to find that the object was just a pumpkin left over from Halloween.

Jerry met up with me and we decided to go back to the house and make calls. While he called the police and the Troy Animal Shelter on his cell phone, I called Tonya in Missouri. She was very reassuring, told me puppy mill dogs never wander far and that she was sure I would find Princess hiding close by. She said she'd make calls to the Ohio basenji volunteers and a couple of local numbers she had on her contact list. She also suggested we use our computer to print posters with a picture and instructions, which we did. I took Rufus with me and combed the area again.

Jerry gets around with a cane so I did all the walking, put up posters, and knocked on doors where there were dogs as Tonya said Princess might be attracted by the barking. I walked for hours on and off the streets, all over the large field behind the house and around the pond, looking in drain pipes and ditches, under bushes and any other place I could see where a small dog might hide. The ground was so muddy that my boots sank down and squished with water, while Rufus faithfully trudged along beside me. Poor guy, he had mud half-way up his legs! He seemed to understand what it was all about, and he was a very good boy throughout the whole ordeal.

By late afternoon, it seemed like I'd walked forever, while Jerry persistently drove up and down country roads with his cell phone. I came back to the house a few times and talked to Tonya, who kept encouraging me and giving suggestions. My sister June called and said she'd heard from Jerry and that she was praying. My brother John called and told me he and his wife sure hoped we'd find her. I called an international prayer group and they put her name on their prayer list. Tonya called and said she was praying and her husband said to tell me he knew she would be found. For some reason Tonya's husband's quiet assurance calmed me and I thought maybe such a thing was actually possible, though I couldn't see how.

By this time it was starting to get dark, the temperature was dropping, and I was feeling about as low as it's possible to feel. I have had 8 basenjis before I applied for Princess and had never lost one since my very first, Baba Yaga, who was the victim of a car accident. That was before I knew that this breed is infamous for its talented escape artists, and since then I've been able to keep my basenjis safe.

Every time I came back to the house somebody from BRAT called with encouragement. It was a workday and they were trying to find volunteers who could help in the search. They assured me there would be people the next day, but I knew a big freeze was forecast for Tuesday and the chances of a tiny shorthair dog surviving the night with the bitter Ohio wind and below-freezing temperatures, was growing dimmer by the minute. As if that wasn't enough, Ohio also has coyotes now. I had heard them more than once howling in the distance. So many dangers for such a little dog, who had never been outside a small enclosure before.

I went outside and made a shelter beside the place where I was sure she'd gotten out. I put up pieces of plywood around the cage and covered the whole thing with a piece of carpet. I found a little carton just the right size for her to curl up in, put in a towel and set it in the cage with a bowl of food. By this time it was 7:30pm, very dark, and the wind had picked up with a little stinging sleet in the air. When I came back inside there were calls from people who said to please call them if she came back as they wouldn't be able to sleep until they knew she was safe. Then I got a call from a man who said he was from BRAT and who wanted to know if I was the woman who had just lost a basenji listed as Princess. When I said yes, he said I could relax now - Princess had been found!

The BRAT volunteer gave me a local number to call to get her. Jerry immediately called and talked to the woman who had called in to report the BRAT number on Princess's rescue tag, and drove over to pick her up. Amazingly, little Princess had walked over 5 1/2 miles! She had headed north, thank God, and had walked away from the river and the traffic over farmland, mostly cornfields. She had had to cross two country roads, including busy Route 25A. She was caked with mud, with gooey clay clumped up between her toes which had probably weighted down her paws as she walked. What a dirty, tired, bedraggled little dog--but what a relief to have her back! That was some walk through corn stubbles and soggy patches all the way. Everybody says it's a miracle she survived--and believe me there was some rejoicing all around when she was found!

As it turned out, Princess's behavior completely contradicted the typical behavior of lost dogs, especially puppy mill dogs. Usually puppy mill dogs wouldn't venture very far, or let strangers near them. Princess may be a puppy mill dog, but she's all basenji, so of course she behaved like one. What actually happened was that a farm woman was out walking her dog after dark. Because of the coyotes she said she never let her dog out alone at night. She saw this bedraggled little red and white dog out all by herself and she knew any dog out after dark in that area had to be lost. Princess trotted right up to the woman, who picked her up and carried her back to the house. The woman said she was so cute that she was tempted to just keep her, but she called her daughter in the next farmhouse who came over, took her home, and called the BRAT 800 tag number.

She's back now. Upon inspection of the yard the next day, I found that the early winter freeze had lifted up a couple of wooden fence posts that hold the side gate in place, creating a tiny space under the gate for Princess to wiggle through. Rufus did the same thing at this very spot last winter so we had recently re-set the fence posts in cement, but my brother John says in this clay soil it takes extraordinary measures to keep them in place. As soon as we can we'll re-set the fence posts even more securely- cemented in 40 inches below the surface to avoid being pushed up by ice- but in the meantime we will just blockade the area and I will not let her out of my sight again until I know it's safe.

Things are finally settling down, and Princess now has a new name. "Pippin" suits her so much better, because the original usage of the word in old England referred to a very small piece of gold. Princess just wasn't right, because what Princess worth her royal salt would set off trekking across soggy fields at Christmas time to try to set a canine record for most miles covered while slogging through mud in 6 hours?

She is so much more confident now. Less jumpy. Trots around like she owns the place, her little curly tail now held up saucily over her little rear end. She’s catching on to the routine, follows Rufus everywhere and loves my famous hound stew. Today she and Rufus played “musical chairs.” She has been eyeing my big leather recliner in my study where Rufus likes to curl up for his nap. When he left his perch for few minutes today, Pippin jumped up in his place. When she got down for a drink of water, Rufus took her place. A few minutes later, I discovered she was back in the chair. After awhile they both fell asleep, Pippin still in the chair and Rufus on the floor beside her like the perfect gentleman that he is. He is such a good boy! And he deserves a nice little playmate for Christmas.

The Story of Pippin - Part I

Right after my first blog, Hooked on Basenjis, appeared on the BRAT blog, I got a call from BRAT Coordinator Tonya Ahrens. She told me she had a little female that she had not yet put on the official adoption list, and she asked me if I would want to see a picture of her. She said this little girl had been rescued from a puppy mill which the organization had managed to get shut down, and Tonya had had her since March nursing her back to health and getting her ready for adoption. She explained that she was 3 years old and had had two litters of puppies, had been bred too young and should never had been bred at all because she was not really a good example of the breed. Now, of course, she'd been spayed, and would hopefully get a new home with a new beginning.

Just before I got this call from Tonya I had applied for Nala, a gorgeous red and white female, after missing out on 4 other dogs. Tonya said she needed a few days to consider my application as there were others who had also applied for Nala. In the meantime, Tonya asked, did I want to see a picture of Princess, the puppy mill dog?

Well, I told her I did and so she sent a picture of this tiny little dog with a sweet little face with the expression of a little lost puppy. I ran off the picture on photo paper and set it up by the computer. The more I looked at her, the more I felt this was the dog I wanted. So when Tonya called a few days after Thanksgiving, she said she had decided to give me my choice of either gorgeous Nala or the little munchkin with the temporary name of Princess. I told her I'd take the munchkin!

Jerry and I decided to bring our little BRAT boy Rufus along and meet Tonya halfway between Ohio and Missouri on Friday, December 11th, to pick up Princess. The night before our trip we got everything packed in the diesel truck before we went to bed, but when we woke up in the morning we were upset to find that the temperature had taken a nosedive during the night and Jerry's deisel truck wouldn't start! After spending nearly an hour shuffling bags from truck to car and back again, we finally got the truck started and took off on our 4 1/2 hour drive to meet Tonya and Princess.

We had agreed to meet at the Flying J Truckstop in Effingham, Illinois. We pulled up into a parking spot and almost immediately Tonya pulled up beside us, and Rufus and I got our first look at the munchkin in a carrying case in the back of Tonya's van. Tonya and I talked awhile and went over papers, agreements, and instructions. There is also an adoption fee for these rescues but it never covers the total cost of veterinarian fees and other expenses. I personally know of one dog who came to BRAT with broken bones and other injuries had a bill of well over $1,000 left over which had been was covered by generous donations.

After the adoption paperwork was taken care of, we plopped little Princess into the crate in our truck, said good-bye to Tonya, and headed back home to Ohio. As soon as we got home we turned the dogs loose in the backyard. They sniffed out each other, piddled, then both ran into the house together. They hit it off right from the very beginning. When I fed them I put down two bowls of food and they each took about two bites, then switched bowls, took another two bites or so and switched again. No growling, or baring of teeth. They romped together the rest of the evening, and I could tell Rufus was just smitten! Princess also seemed to like Rufus, although I could tell that she was still nervous about her new environment because the slightest noise or quick movement would send her running for cover.

When it finally came time to go to bed, we put Princess's crate in a warm spot in the kitchen and put the munchkin to bed. She wasn't too happy with the arrangement and made sounds more like a kitten than a dog. The next night, however, her voice got louder and she ripped up the nice little bed I'd made for her. Aha, I decided, she's a basenji after all!

Tonya had given me instructions on what to do with Princess for the first few days. She was housebroken, but Tonya said she might regress a little bit with the stress of all the changes. To work on this, I was told to find a long cord or piece of rope and tie it around my waist and attach Princess's leash to it. This way she would get used to following me around the house and would feel more secure, and it would also help to avoid accidents. The first day, I took Princess all over the house and let her sniff, opened cabinet doors, the fridge, the oven, and the dishwasher, so she'd know where noises were coming from and wouldn't be scared of them. Then I took her outside, where she explored the entire yard. She kept her tail tucked and her hind quarters down, unlike the natural bouyant carriage of a basenji. Even her paws, which should be relaxed little ovals, were broad with splayed toes and noticeably tensed toe joints as though she was trying to grip the earth for security.

All day long I took Princess outside about every 1 1/2 hours to piddle, and she seemed content to stay with me, but it was easy to see that she was very fearful of every new thing she encountered. She was always ready to dart away at an unexpected noise, and she gulped her food as though she was stealing it. Despite the fact that she acts half-starved, Princess is actually not thin, but is still the smallest adult female I've ever seen. The average female weighs aout 22-24 pounds at maturity. Princess weighs 18, and has shorter legs than a basenjis should have. Jerry says she has a beagle body with a basenji head and tail but that's an exaggeration. Actually, she's a cute little thing.

Tonya told me she'd been found in deplorable circumstances, sleeping on concrete with little callouses on her body here and there. She was put on lamisil by the Vet for an ear fungus that had turned the inside of both ears coal black . She also had ear mites, fleas, was suffering from malnutrition, and was terrified of everything. Before I adopted her Tonya had just about decided to just keep her as she felt that Princess shouldn't be around children who might be too noisy or too rough with her, and she needed a quiet, calm household with another dog that would, as she said, "show her how to be a basenji." She had seemed happiest when hanging out with a couple of young dogs at the foster home. Now that we had her home with her "forever" family, I hoped that Rufus and I would be able to bring her out of her shell...(To Be Continued)

-Joanna Garrett

We Bought the Dogs A House

My two BRAT dogs have gone over to the Rainbow Bridge. I miss them both. I'd like to take this time to tell a story about how they came into our lives.

We had purchased our first basenji from a petstore. Like many people, that is how we came to love the breed. We decided, very quickly, that we wanted our Bashir to have a friend.

We found BRAT by doing a simple websearch for basenjis. I knew that I wanted a rescue, especially feeling guilty about supporting a petstore. But we lived in a tiny little basement apartment, and there was barely enough room for Bashir to be with us, let alone a friend. More than that, our landlord didn't exactly know we had a dog...

We knew that we had to find a new place.

So we went looking for houses. And, for a friend for Bashir. When I saw the photo of Rosalyn and Calvin on the BRAT website, I knew they had to come home with us. They were described as older dogs that had to be placed together.


(Piglet, or basenji? You decide.)

We drove to Cape Cod to visit the dogs, and introduce Bashir. That first meeting? Well, less than stellar. I think Rosalyn almost skinned Bashir alive. My husband, though, fell for her instantly. He sat down, and she came up to him and "hugged" him - by butting her head up against him.

But it was Calvin who stole my heart. He was 45 pounds when he came into rescue, and by then, he was still a chunker! He looked like a little piglet, disguised as a basenji. As another creature on this earth who struggles with their weight, I fell in love with him instantly...

We decided to get them. Be before we could make arrangements, we had to find a place to live. So, we went out and bought the cheapest house we could find. It was a real fixer upper. (We marveled, though, at how clean the windows were. We later realized that there were no windows. Just window panes. But the price was right, and it meant we would have plenty of space to bring the dogs home.. without worrying about the landlord).

I drove to the NY-Mass border and met a wonderful volunteer. She handed over the two old pups. I had no room in my car for crates, so I brought some doggy seat belts. I strapped them in and pulled out of the parking lot. By the time I got to the first light, it sounded like I was transporting the Tazmanian Devil and her younger apprentice... I turned around, and they had chewed through the seatbelts, and were on their way to the upholstery...

We renamed them Momma Roz and Mr. Calvin. We lost a lot of upholstery. We lost mission-style furniture and futons. Our vet once lost a crate that Rosalyn chewed her way out of. We lost 2 crates that were far from basenji-proof. We still have chew marks on the window panes of the house. (Perhaps the previous owners had glass-eating basenjis?).

But we gained a lot more.

I miss my two BRATs. A LOT. And Bashir misses them to. For the first time in almost 7 years he is starting to act badly.

Even dogs mourn.

Last Year's Houseguest Over the Holidays

Nina arrived in November, shortly before Thanksgiving. She was six months old and in heat. I have three female dogs, all who came to me as puppies. They were spayed the "minute" the vet said it was OK to, so I had never had to deal with this issue before. I was advised by my vet that I would have to wait 3 months (yikes!) before Nina could be spayed. And to be very careful when Nina went outside... Male dogs from miles around might come a knockin'.



I did not know what to expect behavior wise. For the most part, Nina was a sweet punk. She was pretty confident, not the least bit intimidated by the other "girls" in the house. She came in like she was the boss. A brief attitude adjustment by Jazzie set the record straight as to who was Queen. The horrible Ice Storm of '08 decended upon us and the three B-girls snuggled together to stay warm. They were thankful for the fleecy coats they had to wear and did not try to rip them to shreds.

After six days, power was restored to our neighborhood. Hooray! Heat! Lights! Running water! Christmas was now upon us; we could finally light the Christmas tree rather than sitting in the dark looking at it by candlelight! Christmas day came. The dogs got to rip into their gifts, proceeded to destroy the toys and model their new accessories. Special treats were served to all. Ahhh... such a nice day :-)

...until the night came. I don't know what provoked it; a toy, a spare crumb. All of a sudden there was a full blown brawl in progress. I jumped up to see what was going on. My kitchen looked like an episode of CSI, there was blood spattered everywhere! Who was injured and where? Well, I quickly determined it was our sweet punk houseguest, Nina. She had the tip of one ear torn off! I got her cleaned up and went to work on cleaning up the kitchen. Lo and behold! What do you think I found in the process? Let me just say this: Eeewwwwww!

Nina, the heat seeking basenji

New Year's Eve was "uneventful" as far as the dogs went. We did have a major snow storm that day, which lent for a very cozy night to ring in the New Year. And in the New Year, Nina was finally able to be spayed. She soon found her new home with a big brother, named Seamus, where she is Queen and can boss him around and does!

Nina (nka Keena) and Seamus

Happy Birthday, Roxy

One year ago today, I brought Roxy into my home to foster. Knowing nothing of her history, I gave her December 20 as her birthday--for it was the beginning of a new life for her. She had been living on the streets for some time. She was my first foster and I was eager to provide a structured and caring environment. With the support of BRAT, we successfully treated her heartworm, and I began the long process of helping her understand she was safe. It took a while. Roxy's eyes truly are the window to her soul and I didn't see a light shine from those eyes for several months.

I began readying her for adoption. She is an older dog, perhaps eight or nine years old when she came to live with me. She was underweight and her spiky hair reflected her poor nutrition. But beneath that scruffy exterior, it was apparent that she was gentle, kind and obedient, and she only wanted to please.

I knew an older dog might be more difficult to place. I began a blog so that interested adopters could read the story of her sweet spirit and incredible resilience. On more than one occasion I wrote that somewhere someone's heart was getting ready to love Roxy. Five months into our journey, she was ready to be posted to the BRAT website. I was certain that the right home was out there and ready to adopt her.

Then she barooed. For the first time ever. She barooed the next day. The only two times she has ever done it. My heart melted. And I realized that the heart getting ready to love her the whole time was mine. On Mother's Day 2009, I adopted her. So today we will celebrate her first birthday. She may have been given a new birthday, but I got the gift. I can't imagine life without her. Happy Birthday, Roxy.

Christmas with the Munchkins

It’s Christmas at Ivan and Dasa’s house. The stockings are hung from the ceiling with care. Our Christmas tree, which is topped with a basenji angel, stands on a table. (Otherwise we’d have a tree with no ornaments on the first three feet from the floor.) We decorate with durability in mind. Should gravity or the wind cause our tree to fall, there are only nonbreakable ornaments so the munchkins would not be injured by broken ornament bits. We don’t put presents under our tree until moments before they are to be opened, and even then they are not left unguarded. Dasa might not be tempted, but Ivan is certain all packages are his. He’s very enthusiastic about opening presents.

During Ivan’s first Christmas with us, the shepherds in our Nativity scene did not watch their sheep all that carefully because little ceramic sheep strayed off the table into corners and between couch cushions. Since then, the shepherds have watched their flocks with due diligence and the sheep have not wandered away.

Our guests all have furry children, so we usually don’t have to belabor the safety rules: no chocolate, grapes, raisins, sugar-fee candy, onions or really any people food for the munchkins. Plus, since Ivan’s surgery, his diet is quite limited. If guests are snookered by the starving orphan looks, they can dispense a few pieces of freeze-dried chicken to the malnourished little dogs in holiday sweaters.

We visit people who have holiday tableaus arranged throughout their houses, and marvel that glass dishes of ornaments sit unharmed on coffee tables, Santas with fluffy beards safely adorn entryways, and stuffed animals in holiday finery sit at small tables around mini trees without mass chaos and heavy casualties. Mostly though, we marvel that we are so blessed with Ivan and Dasa. They are both healthy and happy, and that’s the very best Christmas present we could request. Nothing else on Santa’s list could even come close.

At the Dog Park

Seattle is known as having a large population of loving dog owners, many with several dogs. We have several nice dog parks in the area. A group of volunteers, COLA, keeps the parks clean. The park we mostly go to is called Golden Gardens Dog Park, only about a half mile from our house. The park is on a hill overlooking Golden Gardens on Shilshole Bay which is just gorgeous any time of the year.

The park can get muddy at times even with a thick covering of bark and wood shavings. That is why we think it attracts the best people and dogs. These dog owners are not so concerned about their dogs getting muddy and of course the dogs love it. We go often and we always hear, “Here come the Basenjis!” from those people who know us. Our dogs get muddy but like many basenjis mud and dirt seems to quickly disappear and by the time we get back to the car they are all clean again.

Our BRAT dog Sanji hated the park for the years. We didn’t take him often but he would always ignore the other dogs and walk, never run around the perimeter of the park and then ask to go home. Funny thing was that we never saw him ever run. That was before we got Gumbo as a puppy. Then things changed slowly and now after two years Sanji begs to go to the dog park. Sanji is almost 10 years old and has learned to play with other dogs and run like a normal Basenji. Sometimes a puppy with a BRAT dog will do the trick!

Sanji playing with a little shaggy dog.

Gumbo loves to play and he loves almost all the dogs, especially if they are good runners and he can lead them in a dog chase.

He also mediates when necessary.

If you would like to see many more pictures of “our” dog park go to http://atthedogpark.info. Photographing the dogs is my favorite time.

Marj Baker
manxy2@comcast.net

Home for Christmas

We have been blessed to foster our most recent Basenji fur-child for the past nine months. Nine months is a long time to foster a BRAT.... and yes, before you ask, we did fall in love with her. We would gladly have kept her too, if it had become apparent that no forever family could be found. First, let me tell you a little about Kayley who you see here waiting at the window while my husband, whom she adored (reciprocal), swept snow from our car during a recent trip to Pendleton Oregon....

Kayley was surrendered to BRAT at nine years of age by her only family. Their circumstances had changed and they wanted a better quality of life for Kayley. When she came to live with us, she was dull-coated, over weight and desperately needed dental care. Over the first few weeks we took care of some of her immediate health needs and started work on upgrading her family interaction skills, that had gone rusty, as she was religated to the laundry room and the back yard. It didn't take us long to realize that although she had become a little tarnished around the edges during recent years, Kayley was a true gem of a Basenji with a wonderful personality and very few bad characteristic or habits. Like most Basenjis she had some personality traits that were quirky and took a little adjusting on our part, but she was so sweet and lovable that we just knew she needed to bless someone's family. There was never a question of her suitablity to place, only of finding the family to appreciate her.

We looked and looked for just the right family for this spunky senior princess. Finally that golden applicant came along looking for a companion for their older male Basenji, seven months after Kayley came into foster care. They didn't want someone too young, but they wanted a girl that would be active enough to keep their boy engaged. Kayley seemed like a good fit. A home visit was organized and the preliminaries were accomplished.

On Thanksgiving Day, we (Kayley's foster parents) called to do the final interview with the prospective adoptive family. We asked questions and presented scenarios to try to get a feel for their routines and how Kayley might fit into their lives. Or perhaps more accurately how well they could adjust to suit Kayley's needs in a family! Finally after over an hour of intensive quizing we told them we would contact their area coordinator who would let them know our decision. When we hung up, we spent the next two hours discussing the pros and cons of this family and how they were suited for Kayley. Part of our problem was that we had fallen in love with this special little girl and we wanted to make sure she would get a home that was as close to what she deserved as we thought was humanly possible. Finally we made the decision to proceed and notified Sharron Hurlbut that we would like her help. You see, in the past, I have always acted as coordinator on all of our fosters, except for our very first, nearly ten years ago. For Kayley we felt too close, too tied by our heartstrings to be objective.

Sharon, thank heavens, took care of the rest of the adoption essentials and left us with only one last step. We had to arrange to meet Kayley's new family somewhere between Boise Idaho and Everett Washington. Of course by now it was into December and the season's first winter storm was well underway. We made it through moderate snow packed roads to Pendleton Oregon, but Kayley's new family was delayed by road closures and heavy snow and barely made it through.

We took this final picture of Kayley in the parking lot of WalMart while we waited for her new family. Kayley was a real trooper, playing in the snow and posing for pictures while we tried not to cry thinking about how much we were going to miss her and all the sweet things she did that we had come to appreciate. The yodels when we came home from work; the avid squirrel chasing that was her passion; the daedos on the carpet by the front door at the prospect of a walk in the early morning chill, when really the rest of us would much rather be still abed. I would especially miss the determined under-cover foot warmer who never moved a muscle all night long and was never grouchy about the occasional foot nudge in the middle of the night.

When her new family arrived Kayley, of course, growled at them, especially her new brother. I warned them that it might take a couple of days (hopefully not longer) for her to warm up. Three days later, they sent me this picture, which they titled "Best Friends" and they tell me that everything has gone much better than anticipated and that Kayley already acts as if she has lived with them all her life and had not hesitated at all to make herself completely "At Home!"

Kayley, now ten years beautiful, it seems is "Home for Christmas"...

Remembering Rico

September, 1999 - we drove from Las Vegas, Nevada, to Flagstaff, Arizona to meet Rico Austin for the first time. Rico had left Austin, Texas, two days earlier and had met very caring people who in-turn brought him to us. It was late afternoon when he arrived at the Embassy Suites Hotel. He was happy and well cared for and rode with two other Basenjis. We all shared supper together before JoAnn and I headed west for Las Vegas. Rico did not want to stay alone in the back seat so he came up front and laid down on JoAnn’s lap. He did not leave her all the way home.

Over the next several weeks Rico began to adjust to his new home and new people - his new world. When we went out he stayed in his travel crate. When he went outside he found no grass in his new backyard. Later when we put in a Hale Security dog door and got a large two door crate, he would dig a depression in the dirt and stay there in the afternoon; even though he could always come back into the air conditioned house. Rico liked the sun and the warmth.

Rico was an escape artist. He got out under a gate, tried to go through a drainage opening, and removed a screened vent to get into the garage. We were very surprised when he came walking out of the garage as the garage door went up.

Life was not perfect because he woke up badly. He was ready to defend himself against whoever and whatever was awakening him. He would also disturb JoAnn when he lifted his leg and peed in the house. Over time we and Rico changed. Rico and Cliff began to walk every evening for 15 to 45 minutes. Sun, wind, cold, or rain - no matter - every night was time to walk. We walked in every location around our neighborhood, but walking around the soccer fields was done most often. Rico had a bum leg that had never been properly set when it had been broken in several places. He still loved his evening walk, even when arthritis began to make moving the leg more difficult.

He continued to wake badly and was always afraid he might be left. The waking badly came to a head just before Christmas 2000. He woke badly and when Cliff tried to calm Rico, he bit Cliff. The bite took a number of stitches to close, but with that bite something changed in Rico. It may be that he knew he had hurt Cliff. It may be that pent-up emotions were spent. Regardless, he became affectionate. He wanted to be near his people. His forever home was important and he acquired his cuddle bed which was on the floor next to our bed.

Rico’s days were spent following the sun around the living room floor and laying on his pillows - one on the couch and one in his crate at the dog door. He had lots of toys, but his red capped "Happy Hedgehog" was his favorite. Whenever something happened that made him happy, he would go looking for this one toy and bring it to me. In the evening, he would get a pet tab after his walk, belly rubs and pets, and sleep next to us in his cuddle bed.

Rico became a good traveler. His first trip after Flagstaff was to Sacramento, CA. He did not like the sound of the car turn signal and he took a while to calm when we first left the house. We tried using a seat belt harness and found that he could get out of a harness. After a couple of attempts at other approaches, Rico traveled inside his plastic travel crate. He took many trips to Elko, NV, where he walked on snow and mud but did not go near puddles. Eventually, he traveled with the crate door open. He would go in and out and occasionally put his nose on my left shoulder to see what was happening.

This idyllic life changed suddenly in September, 2002. Our first indication that there was a problem was on Friday, September 13. Rico threw-up that evening. He seemed somewhat better by Sunday, except that he was not eating and really had no interest in food. By Monday, he was listless and slept but again did not eat. He actually lost 2 pounds before we decided we had to take him in on Tuesday morning. Dr. Mychajlonka (Dr. Myke) of Craig Road Animal Hospital immediately started treating him for pancreatitis, and after doing an ultrasound, modified the treatment for a greatly enlarged gall bladder. Rico got visibly more yellow Wednesday, and Dr. Myke received the blood work confirming elevated levels of bilirubin and liver function. Dr. Myke discussed the situation with two specialists and they agreed with what he recommended to us: Rico needed surgery. We could have delayed the surgery and had it done by a veterinary surgeon, but we decided to go ahead immediately with Dr. Myke. It was a good thing we did, because from what we know now, we do not believe Rico would have survived another 24 hours without the surgery.

On September 19, Rico was in surgery for 3 hours and 40 minutes. Dr. Myke found some pancreatic damage and removed a portion of the gall bladder. Rico also had a plugged common bile duct and a gall bladder near rupture. The bile duct appeared to have been damaged for some time with indication of adhesions. A number of tissue samples were taken and showed no signs of cancer. Rico’s liver was in good shape and his kidneys were functioning.

Needless to say this was major surgery for a little dog. By September 22, we had gone back and forth to Dr. Myke's to see Rico many times. Rico was being treated for pancreatitis and possible surgical infections which meant he was getting two types of antibiotics and a liter of fluid a day. His kidneys seemed to be working. Rico seemed glad we visited him and he responded to our voices and being petted. We brought Rico’s blanket and red cap Happy Hedgehog so he had some smells from home during each visit. He would lie down on the blanket next to me and doze. When JoAnn visited, he wanted to be close to her and have her pet him the way she did every day when she came home. Rico hurt, but he still wanted to greet her the way he did at home.

The vet techs said he was a trooper and wanted to get better and go home. He responded to affection and he did not seem to feel abandoned. Rico seemed to accept the fact that he had to stay at the hospital until he was better. He was clean and his incision was never infected.

We brought Rico home twice. The first time was for only a day and then he went back for a week of fluids and antibiotics. The second time was Thursday, October 3. He had a good night. He got to walk. He took medicine and generally tried to be Rico following sunbeams, being cuddled and being on our bed. But by Sunday, we knew he was in trouble. We took him to the vet at 7:00 am and they drew blood and gave him his antibiotic. They asked if we would leave him and we both said no. Rico was going home for at least the rest of Sunday to be loved and to be himself.

Rico Austin died in my arms at noon on Monday, October 7, 2002. We believe he was about 11 years old. He never truly recovered from his surgery. Acute Fanconi, the Basenji nemesis, set in over the weekend on top of the pancreatitis and its underlying infection. His kidneys finally failed.

Rico was with us such a short time - 3 years and 1 month. During that time he won our hearts and gave his love back. Rico always greeted us when we came home. He was such a little gentleman to JoAnn and always nuzzled her and waited for her to pet him. For me, he wanted to be held with his nose on my shoulder and then put down to get his Happy Hedgehog. He was happy to be with us, to be near us and to walk. It did not matter to Rico if it was 100 degrees outside or if it was 30 degrees with a blustery wind; the evening walk was the highlight of the day. After that came lying on the couch, belly rubs and finally the cuddle bed laying in our bedroom right next to our bed, where he could curl-up and get petted before I fell asleep. He then went downstairs to stay with JoAnn until she came to bed. This part of the routine included treats and maybe getting to sleep on the bed itself with us. Weekend mornings Rico would be up on the bed getting petted and loved or just being close while we read the paper. Rico always responded to affection and gave love back in return. He was a great traveler and companion. He rode in his crate with the door open, but occasionally he would pop-up to see what was going on and put his head on my left shoulder.

Rico was a very good, brave little Basenji and loved dearly.
Rico is and will be missed.

- Cliff & JoAnn

A Happy Fantastic Birthday!!!

In August of 2001 I adopted Happy (my muse, business partner, and soul-mate ) from BRAT. She was 8 or 9 when I adopted her (her vet records were not clear then). But since I adopted her I have learned soooooo much about her including her birthday and her pedigree! I learned that she was a breeding dog and had a very short career as a show dog (she was much too anxious for that lifestyle) and now I am in touch with many people who own her children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren!

Sunday was the 18th Birthday of Miss Happy Fantastic Basenji Extraordinaire! And yes, 18 is REALLY old for a dog, it is like 100 in human years!!! So for those of you who are nervous about adopting an older dog, who know... she just may be with you as long as one of the younger pups! The bottom line is that BRAT + what is now known as Colorado Basenji Rescue did a wonderful job matching me up with my Happy and she was worth the 6 months I had to wait for her. I love my Happy and I am thankful for each day she is with me! :)

Enjoy these Happy Fantastic Party Pics!

Yum!!! Ben & Jerry's with a peanut butter cup doggie pie from PupCat Bakery.

The Party Crashers!!!

mmm... it does go well with the chicken

Party pooper!

2010 BRAT Convention in Alexandria, Virginia

You are invited to join us for the 2010 BRAT Convention in Old Town Alexandria, VA. The BRAT convention is an opportunity to meet with basenji owners, attend dog and rescue-related seminars, and have fun at the dog park with other basenjis.

The dates for the convention are Thursday June 24 through Sunday June 27, 2010.

To subscribe to our Convention email list, click here.

The convention will be held at the Holiday Inn Alexandria


This motel has offered us a highly discounted room rate of $109/night (an incredibly good rate for the area). The hotel is offering this group rate starting two days before and ending two days after our event for those folks who would like to extend their stay.

The hotel has only four floors. They have a large lobby lounge, an on-premise coffee shop (leased from hotel and managed externally) and a nice restaurant. The hotel was completely renovated as of last year, and the rooms are spacious, clean, and nice. They offer suites, double queens, or single king rooms. Some rooms have a small balcony while others overlook a large courtyard and pool. Rooms have free internet access (wireless or data port). Small refrigerator and/or microwave are available for $5/night. Other amenities include a fitness center as well as an indoor/outdoor pool, and a free shuttle to/from nearby National airport should anyone wish to fly in. They offer our group free on-site garage parking for those who drive.

We hope that you will join us for the Eighth Annual BRAT Convention in 2010!

An American Basenji in England

More than three years ago, a basenji breeder lost her home and had to move 20 basenjis into a trailer. She called BRAT and asked for help in finding good homes for her dogs. Recently, Mike Swan ran into the breeder's daughter at the local dog park, who asked how the basenjis were doing. Here is an update on one of them:

Dear Mike,

It's nice to hear from you. Butterfly (we call her Violet, full name - Violet Butterfly Dennis) is doing very well. She is a beautiful, energetic, sweet-natured, very vocal basenji! We couldn't be happier with her. She really is the best basenji we have ever had, and she is our fourth. I am sure we will always be basenji fans, but I think it would be hard to find a better dog.

Since adopting Violet, there have been many changes in our lives. She had a basenji brother, Ramsey, who passed away in December, 2007. While I think she misses him, she really does enjoy being an "only dog." In 2008, we were presented with the opportunity to move to England for a two to three year period. We had Violet internationally micro-chipped and she went through the "cooking process" involved with moving a pet in to the United Kingdom. She arrived in October last year and has found England to be a grand place to live. The British love their dogs and Violet has become quite social on her daily walks in the park. She has a group of "friends" she meets up with every day. She seems to like other dogs, but does not have much tolerance for puppies or cats!

Since moving here, Violet has become accustomed to going to pubs and cafes that allow dogs. I have attached two photos of a visit to one of our favorites, The Ragged Cot in Minchinhampton in the Cotswalds.

I have also attached a photo of her looking out our front window in true basenji-style!

If you see the breeder's daughter again, tell her that Butterfly is a very happy, very healthy and very loved member of our family. We are so happy with our BRAT experience that I don't think we will ever have any other dog than a rescue dog again. Thank you for the work that you all do and for giving us such a treasured member of our family.

With Much Regard,
Jason, Linda & Jade Dennis (Violet's forever family)

THE RED BED

The final night of the rescue convention, Kenya was getting pretty snarky. As we were sitting up front, the dog communicator singled us out and told Kenya and Phoenix she would talk to them later. At first, Lloyd and I thought the whole "dog communicator" thing was wierd and hoaky. When i brought the kids over, she said some things that definately rang true about Phoenix. His being worried about Kenya being taken away made sense when we looked back at his behavior patterns when other people would come into the house or when we traveled with them. We still felt however, that being rescues, it could have been a "generic" thing to say. When the dog communicator told us that Kenya was annoyed and uncomfortable because she was itchy, we thought she might have seen her scratching. When she said that Kenya wanted a red bed and that would make her happy i thought the dog communicator thing was ridiculous. When we went back to the hotel we decided to do an experiment. Of course we didn't have a red bed but we had a red leash and martindale choke collar for Phoenix (as he is a red/white) and a black leash and martinadle choke collar for Kenya (as she i a tri). From day one when we got the leashes and collars, it was impossible to put the collar on Kenya when we would take them for a walk. It was a 10 minute ordeal with her running away everytime we tried to put it on her. Since the dog communicator said she wanted a red bed we decided to switch collars. Maybe the red collar would satisfy her desire for a red bed (yeah sure.....ha ha)
To our amazement, as soon as we showed the red collar to Kenya she sat and stayed and let us put it on her. Since that day, as long as we use the red collar we have not had any problems putting the collar on her.

When we got home from syracuse we decided to get new everday collars for the kids.
We got a batman collar to match Phoenix's batman ID tag and of course we had to get something Red for Kenya. We found a cute red collar with tootsie rolls on it. When we gave the collar to Phoenix he could care less. When we took out the red tootsie roll collar Kenya went beserk! She was dancing around lloyd, jumping up against him with joy and excitement like i've only seen from a dog when they think they are going to get a fantatistic treat. She calmly let us put the collar on her and then starting prancing around as if to say "look at me" i'm beautiful! It was hysterical.

(Kenya proudly sporting her "red tootsie roll" collar)

A tent can be a home

For several years my son and I have tried to go camping for Thanksgiving but circumstances waylaid the plans--but this year the stars aligned and we were able take the long planned outing. Fried turkey and all the trimmings in God's beautiful world on a day to be thankful for all we have. Of course I worked far too long on Thanksgiving Eve and we arrived at the campsite close to 9 p.m., put up the tents, set up the fire, cooked dinner and finally went to sleep.

Iggy, the boy B, was ecstatic to be camping once again; he and Oscar, the mini doxy, were exploring as far as their leads would allow. Roxy, my BRAT, wouldn't leave my side. Poor Roxy, I realized it was probably a really scary experience, arriving in the dark in an unfamiliar place. But the three dogs and I settled into the tent and slept well.

The next morning was really cold (okay, 38 degrees is REALLY cold in Louisiana!), and Roxy would not leave the tent for any amount of coaxing. I had to drag her out to do her business and then she beelined it back for the covers and the tent. She didn't leave the tent all day, except when I pulled her out. But she headed right back to the tent.

I was really puzzled by her behavior. I thought maybe she was cold. It is hard to keep her weight on. But there was so much to smell and explore and nature is the best! That night I was able to convince her to sit by the fire with me, but she was happy to go back into the tent as soon as I would let her.

Day three: Roxy is still in the tent. Mid-day it's time to take the tent down and go home. Roxy wouldn't leave the tent, even as I dismantled it. When I made her get out, she sat on the moisture tarp that sits under the tent. When I folded that up, she stood there looking pitiful.

And it suddenly hit me: Roxy had lived on the streets an indeterminable amount of time. She was emaciated, her teeth were broken, she was nothing but a mohawk and skin and bones when she came to live with me 11 months ago.

I looked in her eyes and I finally got it. Why would anyone CHOOSE to leave a perfectly warm, comfortable home and CHOOSE to live outside in a tent? She decided that tent was going to be her home until I came to my senses, and she wasn't going to risk losing it no matter what! I bet you know who was happiest when we drove up the driveway to her home.

The Eternal IQ Question

A few weeks back a friend sent me this message:

“I would say that Bow is one of the smartest dogs I know, but according to this article, she’s not likely to end up at canine Harvard anytime soon.”

Maybe I’m opening up the wrong can of worms just mentioning the topic since it made the rounds on BRAT-CHAT this summer, but my initial response was “I’d like to see the companion survey where basenjis got a chance to rank the intelligence of humans.”

My response back to my friend was, “Well, if you want a dog that is always compliant, that follows commands without questioning, that is always looking for your approval, that will play the role of the faithful servant, then a basenji is not very bright. However, if you like a dog that is independent, that you constantly have to outsmart, that can figure out how to climb over two baby gates without any effort, can open doors and cabinets and is always testing your intelligence, then a basenji might be for you.”

My friend says that one of the reasons that he likes Bow is that her approval is not easily won, she isn’t a face licking love muffin but when she approves of you, she is a steadfast friend.

Asking someone if they think they have a smart dog is as futile a question as asking someone if they think their grandchild is cute. But I have to agree with those who feel that “scientific studies” which rank basenjis low on the intelligence scale look at them through a skewed lens. And how intelligent does a dog need to be? Considering that Bow has managed to get someone to lavish the best canine food, medical care, back and tummy massages and protection, would she be doing any better were she to learn Greek and calculus?

I’ve also heard such mixed opinions from other basenji owners of whether or not they are trainable? After months of working on it, Bow responds to quite a number of commands she ignored when she arrived a year ago. “Leave it.” “Off.” “Down.” “Give me five.” and a few others get the appropriate, immediate response now. I don’t know that I have “taught” her these commands – I suspect she knew them all along. But we have managed to negotiate them successfully as a team. The fact that I can now say “Leave it” and get an immediate response without a treat even when she’s spotted a smelly chicken bone on the sidewalk feels like someone’s IQ has gone up a point or two.

Though it may not qualify as an indicator of intelligence, I keep getting mixed opinions about whether or not basenjis or dogs in general have any specific memories about events, people, places and activities. Bow does seem to remember that more than a year ago she saw a cat run through the side yard at 25^th and Hampshire since every time we pass it she glances over and will pull a bit on the leash just in case that cat is there again. She also clearly remembers humans that remember their commands, such as a friend who has yet to understand the “Let her approach you first” command, and he’s the only human visitor she’s ever been snippy with.

Finally, I have a debate with a couple of friends about whether Bow can recognize representations of animals in pictures, TV or other likenesses. Most say they are oblivious to such likenesses, but the first time we walked by the house with the figurine on the right, Bow bolted backward, looked up at me and then circled around with great trepidation and her Mohawk at full mast. When was came back around the block she was calm but before heading on down the block, she had to paw at the plaster pooch for just a second to let it know she was the boss.

Lucky's Matching Challenge!

I am very pleased to announce that we have met the $2,500 matching challenge for Lucky, the basenji in Tennessee with a broken leg.

In fact, we far exceeded the challenge amount and received donations to date totaling $9444!

Below is a list of all of our donors for this challenge. I also want to recognize Lucky's foster parents, Allan and Dawn Atkinson (who also donated) and her adopter, Laurel Martin, who sent the attached photo of Lucky with his new best friend.

We plan to use all of the extra money to pay for the vet bills of our some of our other expensive dogs---including four basenjis from Reliance, Tennessee who have been treated for Heartworm, and Tyco in Las Vegas who also had a broken leg. Remaining funds will be used for other BRAT dogs in need.

Thank you to everyone who donated in this challenge!

Mike Swan
President, BRAT, Inc.

Check donations (Total: $5263)

Sherry Agee
Janet Benoit
Anabelle Brown
Christine Burrows
Paul Carnegie
Cynthia Castro
Frankie Clements
Sally Cobb
Gail Conley-Reagan
The Damien Foundation
Sarah Douthit
Pat Dukes
Pamela Elness
Robert Elasser
Carol Fetters
Tai-Jen Gordon
Larry Gregory
Lamay Hansen
Nancy Harley
Roberta Kosek
Marc Lax
James Meleones
Becky Melich
Chris Miles
Barbara Narehood
Peggy Pick-Sutton
Vickie Pscheid
Lori Runyon
Chris Santore
Frank Senko
Laura Tabor
Brenda Tucker
Oren Will

Paypal donations (Total: $2406)

Jennifer Ellin
Suzanne Sarlls-Hartwell
Kim Robinson
Nancy Lubanovich
Richard Burr
Sara Burroughs
Robin Nuspi
Linda Henning
Jean Booth
Barbara Kunze
Michael Henry
Margaret O'Reilly
George Woodard
Emily Panchenko
Lynda Carroll
Julia Mahoney
Kathleen Barrett
Nancy Demers
Deborah Muzzin
Linda Vital
Peter Meyers
Manuel Fleissner
Tim Gibson
Patricia Imhoff
Christopher Alexander
Laura Whitney
Mary Goldschmidt
Jennifer Ellin

Network for Good donations (Total: $1775)

Chey Miller
Oscar Williams
Jennifer Titus
Robin Loree
Jaime Adams
Karen Trim
Darlene Carenza
Katherine Black
Carolyn Williams
Christa Reinwall
Jennifer Yearly
Judith Kubric
Robin Robertson
Mary Gregory
Teresa Spruill
Linda Raines
Michael Swan
Debra Sedgeley
Anonymous
Nancy Grant
Sarah Morgan
Caryn Schoeffler
Judith Murray
Kay Theener
Robert Lawley
Louise Mead

A note from Lucky's adopter, Laurel Martin:

We are so excited to add Lucky to our household. Getty is enjoying getting her to run the B500 and seems to be very attentive to her. While they are still trying to figure out the exact pecking order (our money is on her!), things seem to be moving along very smoothly. We are so grateful to all the love and attention that Dawn Atkinson and her foster family gave her as she was recovering from surgery. She was truly lucky to have them respond when she was first hit by the car.

Ellie the Ear Cleaning Queen

This morning Ellie was sitting in my lap while we had one of our face-to-face mutual adoration sessions. ;-) She suddenly decided my right ear was in desperate need of a most thorough cleaning. When she was done, she gazed into my eyes again. I said, "you know, you might as well clean the other one now." And she promptly did!

Ellie firmly believes that there are few issues in the world that cannot be improved or even solved by a vigorous ear cleaning. She certainly practices on me enough, and her techniques on Taj are best described as commando. She will go as far to lay on top of him and lick his ears with a fervor usually reserved for cream cheese. If he wiggles or protests, she fixes him with an evil eye and a growl, then keeps on cleaning! That boy has the shiniest ears I've ever seen on any dog. Ellie also cleans my BRAT boy Marco Polo's face and ears for him several times a day now that he is a very old boy, and Taj will go so far as to stick his face up to Ellie's and angle his head to indicate she should clean his ears NOW!

I can just picture a large table with all the world's leaders sitting around it, and a little brindle B girl going from lap to lap giving everyone a good old mama dog ear scrubbing until everyone agrees to get along . . .

Linda S. Krajewski
Redlands, CA

Devoted Basenji slave to:
Ellie, brindle Queen of Everything
Taj, red/white Crown Prince of Mischief
Former BRAT foster Marco Polo, red/white Royal Explorer
and co-owned by 2001 bay roan Appaloosa mare Curly

A Basenji Confesses

(From the BRAT-chat lists, October 2008)

I've had a foster puppy, Mojo, with me for about a month now. He is a
charming and energetic 10 month old brindle boy who, like any B puppy, is a
mixture of sweetness, fun, and utter chaos. He has earned the nicknames
Mojito (because at times he's so crazy I need a drink) and Mosquito (because
he can be so busy and pesty, especially to my old man Marco Polo).

When I came home last night, my three Bs and Mojo greeted me
enthusiastically at the door. My pack are not often vocal at such times,
but Mojo was making an excited little rolling roo noise in his throat (you
know, the sound that non-B experienced people think is a growl). I went to
the bedroom to dump off my computer, briefcase, and purse. Ellie, Taj, and
Mojo jumped on the bed to cavort around and Marco laid down on the floor to
watch. All this time Mojo was making his roo-roll sound and moving his
mouth around as if he had something he was trying desperately to say. And
then -- he confessed loudly:

I -- ARE -- ROTTEN!

I couldn't stop laughing for quite a while.

Cheers and yodels,

Linda S. Krajewski
Redlands, CA
Owned by Basenjis - Ellie, Taj, and former BRAT foster Marco Polo
and co-owned by 2001 bay roan Appaloosa mare Curly!

(Mojo was placed in a loving home in Northern California shortly after the time of this story)

Hooked on Basenjis

I first learned about basenjis when my boys were young and begging for a family dog. Our pair of Siamese cats was nearing their 18th year, and we had moved to a house with plenty of room for a dog and the timing seemed right. Somehow I found out about an intriguing breed of dog that didn’t bark, was hypoallergenic and was exactly the right size. Then I saw the film, “Good-bye My Lady,” and that did it.

So I talked to my vet, who told me about a breeder in Florida where we lived at that time. One morning I and my two boys set off across the state to a little place outside Ft. Lauderdale near the Everglades, and came back with a tiny 5 week old tricolor puppy that squawked and whimpered the whole way home. She was hungry, poor thing, and too young to leave her mother, but she was our first puppy and soon had wormed her way into our hearts.

Because she had been born on Halloween, my oldest son named her Baba Yaga after the Russian witch of storybook fame who had the magical power of morphing into an enchanted cottage that moved through the forest on a pair of large chicken legs. She also learned commands in three languages: Russian, German and English, delighted us with her yodels, her chortles and her crows and completely spoiled us for any other breed of dog.

But, alas, we had never been told that even on a quiet street with only local traffic, Basenjis must never be given the freedom of other canine breeds, and Baba did not make it much past her first birthday. When we found her little body beside the street one summer morning, our home turned instantly into a house of mourning. That was a bitter lesson well learned. We had a few gifted escape artists among the colorful basenji personalities after Baba Yaga, but no one ever again came to such a tragic end.

Baba was followed by Shane and Jodie, two purebred basenjis that belonged to the friend of a neighbor. While we were still mourning the loss of our beautiful Baba, a neighbor told us that she was being besieged by frantic calls from across the country by the owner of two purebred basenjis whom she had foolishly left in the care of a young nephew. This woman was about to leave the country and had heard things were not working out—that her dogs were tied up under a rusty old semi with the Florida hurricane season rapidly approaching. Could she find a trustworthy person to rescue her dogs?

So we drove down to Sarasota County to find two of the filthiest dogs I’ve ever seen tied up as described. Shane was chewing on a rusty pipe wrench and Jodie was so obese she could barely waddle. A diet of leftover mashed potatoes and assorted scraps is not conducive to good basenji health. However, after a good worming, a vet-prescribed diet and lots of loving care, before summer ended, Jodie looked like the former show dog I’d heard she had been and Shane’s coat was a gorgeous red. However, Shane’s health had been so damaged by a few weeks of serious neglect and an infestation of heart worms that he died in a few weeks.

If you have never been witness to a grief-stricken dog after the death of a canine companion, you may think it a small matter. But I have witnessed two female basenjis mourning the death of a companion and it is certainly not any easy experience for an animal lover. Both Jodie, and later Kiki, grieved as deeply as any human, by refusing food, showing obvious depression, and wearing a heart--breaking constant searching look for the missing friend. I thought maybe Jodie might grieve herself to death while years later little Kiki did actually die only one month after Sam - but there is much more to that story.

Kiki joined Sam in doggie heaven one month after I moved from Florida to Ohio. I had expected she and Sam would be around for several more years, but life doesn’t always work as planned. After three weeks of living completely alone and hating it, I found BRAT on the Internet and applied to adopt Ishmah.

Ishmah was described as an alpha female with an exotic but traumatic history. It was best that she be an only dog as she’d had issues with canines and at least one human. But I was also told she had an amazing basenji repertoire of sounds, that she could literally sing as well as carry on an extended conversation and as I was impressed by her exotic background and was experienced with alphas, I was delighted when I was chosen to adopt her.

I learned to love that snarky little redhead, and after a year of getting to know her I decided she just might be open to the addition of a friendly male basenji to the household. That’s when I heard about Rufus, who had not yet been listed with BRAT rescue. He was two years old, had not been socialized, and was housebroken only to papers. Rufus, I was told, along with several other young basenjis, had been living in cages in a trailer in Tennessee. His owner raised show dogs and gave no explanation for giving up twenty purebred brindled basenjis, asking only that they be placed in good homes.

I confined Ishmah to the house the day Rufus arrived--brought right up to the door by a BRAT volunteer with six more, some to be driven as far north as Michigan. I had suggested the dogs use my yard as a rest stop, so all the little guys stretched their legs and then Rufus was left with me while Ishmah waited inside.

Ishmah was less than impressed upon eyeballing scrawny little Rufus, and showed her disdain with an unladylike snort and a quick swat at the poor little guy. This took him by surprise, but after tipping back on his skinny little haunches, he batted his eyes, scrambled to his feet and followed Ishmah as she walked regally from the room. From then on he was Ishmah’s devoted little slave.

The next three days Rufus was either curled up in my lap or trotting right on Ishmah’s heels. When Ishmah went out the doggie door, Rufus sat there and whimpered until I pushed him through. He got the hang of that quickly enough. Without a single accident Rufus was quickly completely housebroken, and I never had to lift a finger. When the temperature dropped and I closed the door to the sunroom, Ishmah showed him how to jingle the bell to get my attention when he wanted to go out. Ishmah did all the work. The day I found them curled up together in Ishmah’s doggie bed, I knew this was a match made in heaven.

But Ishmah was already getting old when I adopted her and the stress she had experienced before she was submitted to BRAT may have added to her deterioration. Also, I learned from her former owner that she was actually a couple of years older than BRAT had thought. With Ishmah’s demise following so closely on Sam’s and Kiki’s, I had lost three beloved companion dogs in little more than three years.

A recent email from Mr. Swan solved for me the mystery of Rufus’ submission to BRAT.
I was saddened to learn that Rufus and all those other young brindles turned over to BRAT were orphaned, not because they weren’t wanted, but because their owner had suffered severe financial losses. She had lost her home and wanted only to be sure her dogs found good homes. I only wish I could tell her how much joy Rufus has brought into my life. He is the only one of my basenjis that has never been food-oriented. He has never even been interested in snacks aside from an occasional slice of cheese. He leaves dog biscuits untouched, but will chew on Greenies, one small greenie lasting for two to three days. His weight is perfect, he is non-destructive aside from the usual paper fetish, and is not interested in making a mad dash for the door when the doorbell rings. He just scrunches down at my feet to make it easy for me to pick him up. He is gentle, loves to cuddle, can be touched all over, greets my guests with great enthusiasm and can be left completely free in the house on those occasions when I am gone. He is, in a word, perfect!

Rufus misses Ishmah and so do I. I have submitted an application to BRAT for a little sister as a playmate for Rufus. I might add that I cannot praise all the good BRAT volunteers enough. They do God’s work and they do it well.

Joanna Garrett
kikisam@woh.rr.com