Bobula, Prince of Darkness

It didn’t take very long for me to bring a new dog into the house. I lasted three weeks after letting Little Ray go; significantly less time than it’s taken me to write about it.

I’d originally thought it would be good to have some time where I could come and go as I pleased. While that freedom was nice, coming back to an empty house wasn’t. At first I’d gone to the Toronto Humane Society to see a black lab puppy several days after Ray’s death, but that was simply too early. Three weeks, though, was more than enough, and one night, while browsing, there he was, and now here he is. He was listed as 7 months old, with a damaged cruciate ligament, and the shelter felt he would need surgery to fix this when he reached one year of age.

Bob was originally called Shadow, and he was seized from his owner (at six months of age) after the neighbour reported him to the police when she saw him beating him in the back yard. The police actually caught the owner in the act, and I believe he was charged and convicted. I called him Bill for one day, and then settled on Bob.

When I went to see him, he was in his cage playing with a rubber hot dog. Next thing I knew, a paw appeared under his cage door, pushing the hot dog toward me, a clincher as far as I was concerned. After having my vet check his records and x-rays, I did all the necessary paperwork, and loaded him into the car. He was in the front seat in no time, head on my gearshift arm, looking up at me for about one second before he fell asleep.

Five months on, he’s settled in (or taken over). One underfed and underweight, he’s now a little muscle, a chewer, and it looks like the leg won’t need surgery after all. He’s also a sweet boy. I think we both lucked out.