Hi, it’s Bella here. This blog is all about me.
I decided to guest blog today because our mumma is so busy. She’s so busy that she can’t even sleep because there’s so much going on in her head. Even when we try to snuggle up to her and let her know it’s all going to be okay, she still can’t sleep.
The trouble is, if she doesn’t sleep and spends so much time stressing, she gets even more tired. Poor mumma. And poor us just quietly, because it’s not as much fun when your mumma is tired!
I’m the eldest of mumma’s 3 kids. I taught her all she needs to know about being a mumma.
I’m officially older than her now (silly dog years conversion!), but I still behave like a puppy a lot of the time – especially when I’m playing with my brother Bear and our fuzzy cousin Barker. One of the good things about being a slightly older dog is that I’m less inclined to eat things like couches and carpet now. I’m also more respectful of my toys and spend less time trying to remove their innards and kill their squeaky insides. That is, unless I’m playing tug of war with Bear or Barker. Then sometimes our toys come off second best, but only because we’re a little zealous in our playing.
I am a rescue mutt. I vaguely remember the first 11 weeks of my life – the time before I met my mumma. They weren’t much fun. At all. Someone dumped my dog mumma and my 3 brothers in a big box on the side of a very busy road. I was only 2 weeks old. One of my brothers has gone to doggy heaven, and my dog mumma and other two brothers were all re-homed. I was quite sick and had to go to a rescue foster home. My leg had an operation (mumma really loves that scar still – she says it’s a reminder of my horrible start in life and how far I’ve come) and I got so sick that I nearly died.
At the same time all of this was happening to me, mumma was living in an apartment and really missing having a dog. Her previous dog (Jackson – another rescue mutt) had moved away with her ex boyfriend. That’s a whole other story!
Mumma spent a lot of time back then looking on doggie rescue sites and getting very sad that (a) she didn’t have her own puppy; and (b) that she couldn’t rescue all the mutts who needed rescuing. She grew up with a border collie named Rufus so she thought her next dog in life would be a BC who needed rescuing.
But then she saw my photo. She has a thing for ears. Dog ears that is. And tails. And all other bits as well, but she says it was my soulful eyes and big beautiful ears that did her in.
Then she had the challenge of finding a house to live in (in Australia there aren’t a lot of apartments where it’s okay to have dogs – such a stupid rule) and hoping that no-one else rescued me while she was looking for a house and moving!
She didn’t know that I was going to wait for her, but I did. I heard my foster family speaking to her on the phone almost every day from the time I was 9 weeks until I was 11 weeks to make sure I was still waiting for her and to check on my health. Anyone who cares that much before they’ve even met you has to be your family eventually. She’s my fuzzy soul mate.
She found a house (yippee) then she came to visit me (yippee yippee yippee). As soon as I saw her, I literally ran to her and leapt up into her arms. We then spent an hour playing in the back garden of my foster family and they had to ask mumma to leave. A few times. She cried because she didn’t want to leave me.
Because I had such a bad start in life and was with a foster family, there are rules that once you visit a dog (even if you know deep in your soul that dog is your fur-ever friend) that you have to go away for 24 hours before you are allowed to come back and take that dog home.
Man, 24 hours is a looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong time.
The next day was a Sunday and she came back at 8am. My foster family wouldn’t let her come any earlier even though she wanted to. She came with my aunty to pick me up because she was too excited to drive. She arrived before 8am and sat in the car out the front waiting. My foster family eventually let her come in a little before 8 to take me home.
I thought that was the best day ever. Since then though, in the past 6 and a bit years, we have had LOADS of best days ever. Like when my aunty and uncle and fuzzy cousin moved back from America. And when Bear came to live with us. And every time my grandma visits. And when mumma came home from the hospital with bubba.
And we’re going to have thousands more. I know this because we made a deal the day we met. The deal is that we’re not going to think about never being together and one day when we’re ridiculously old (like 100!) we’re all going to lay down and hold paws and go to sleep together, knowing what a wonderful, full and happy life we’ve had. And then we’ll get to hang out with our grandpa and Rufus.