In the fall of 2003, after our storage shed was burgled, I decided that the solution to all of our security problems was to get a dog. This vicious and protective dog would bark and snarl at the intruders,sending them terrified into the night. Then I started researching beagles, not exactly known for their fierceness, but for their love of food. After much searching on the Beagle Rescue League website, I happened across a particularly sweet looking beagle named Buster Brown, who I knew was meant to be ours.
I should note that Jim was not really into the idea of getting a dog. All the way out to Spring, TX, where Buster was temporarily living in a foster home with four other beagles, we bickered. But there was no denying Buster once we saw him. He was bowlegged and sad eyed, a piece of his ear was missing and his teeth were horrible. He was overshadowed by the other dogs in the house and it was clear that he needed unconditional love. We swept him up and into our car. He rode on my lap. He expressed his anal glands onto my sweater. At the dog park he sniffed with a passion that he never lost. We loved him. He wasn't so sure about us.
Our love was tested on many occasions. The first challenge was Buster's food aggressiveness, which no one had warned us about. I was the first victim, bitten when I tried to prevent him from eating cat poop in our back yard. He proceeded to bite Jim and several of our friends. We realized that treats like kong balls or anything that he couldn't eat very quickly and without feeling threatened were off limits. We soon also learned that no food was out of his reach. He ate cat food from the top of a table, managed to get to a carrot cake that we left on the counter (and threw it up on the couch), regularly foiled our attempts to keep him out of the trash can, couldn't be dissuaded from eating poop out of the kitty litter (an image of Buster chewing cat poop like gum and with kitty litter on his nose will never leave me. It was a delicacy for him)! Over time and with a lot of patience, we got the food aggression under control, but he ate with gusto until the end.
Buster loved to be with us and when we left for work he would, at first, tear at the blinds frantically and later, when he got used to the idea, he would stand forlornly and droopingly at the front door. He hated thunder and lightning and taking a bath. He loved to go for walks and when he caught a good smell he would give a howl of delight, followed by some enthusiastic moans. He never caught what he was smelling because he was far to interested in sniffing to notice where his prey had gone. He was always looking for a way out and frequently got out of our back yard in pursuit of some particularly wonderful smell. At the dog park, which was impenetrable, he spent half of his time there sniffing along the outermost perimeter. No space was big enough if there was a fence around it. He wasn't interested in other dogs. He loved his froggy, which made froggy noises and which he would parade around the house proudly.
He loved my parents most of all. When we were about to move to London and my parents left Dallas with the cats in their car, Buster howled forlornly. I thought he was sad that the cats were leaving, but now I know it's because he thought the cats were going to have the good life and he was being left behind. When he moved in with my parents, his life was complete and he had everything he needed:constant companionship, mutual adoration, table scraps, long walks. It was the happiest time of his life.
Some of our favorite Buster stories:
The Great Fence Scaler:
After a month of failing to figure out how Buster was escaping from our well fortified back yard, I caught him climbing onto the top of the six foot fence via a plant, scaling across the top, free falling onto the ground below and under the house, only to be drawn out by a particularly tempting treat.
Buster as Hotdog:
Each Halloween, much to his dismay, Buster was our Halloween Hotdog. That tradition stopped as soon as he moved to the farm.
Buster vs. Kristian:
Buster bit Kristian and Kristian bit back (vocally, at least).
Buster and the Brownies:
I can't tell this story on the blog, but it was memorable.
Buster and the ibuprofen (see: for his own account)
After I left him in the house while going for a run, Buster ransacked my purse and ate an entire bottle of ibuprofen. His stomach was pumped and his body was flushed with charcoal and when we came to visit him in the hospital he was wearing a satellite dish and had a sign on his cage that read "cage jumper."
Buster and the PigRoast:
In Houston we went next door to a pig roast, leaving Buster in the backyard of Jim's parents' house. After much scrabbling, Buster eventually managed to dig a hole and get half of his body under the fence. His determination was unforgettable!
Buster and the India Ink:
One day I came home from work and noticed Buster had black stuff all over his paws and face. It was also all over our white couch. It was ancient India Ink, which he had somehow unearthed and consumed.
Buster's age:
Buster has been '10 or 12' since we got him. No one really knows how old Buster actually was...he was like Moses.
Buster's breath:
As I mentioned, Buster had really bad teeth...and really bad breath. This was part of his charm and part of the reason no one could tell how old he was.
Buster the Traveling Wilberry:
Buster loved a good road trip. His favorite place to sit was in someone's lap, of course, but he also would settle for a prime spot on the back seat of the car. When he went on road trips with Mom and Dad, they stayed in Buster friendly hotels and never went out to eat because Buster didn't like to be alone in the hotel room. When I went on a road trip with Buster and Mom, Buster and I shared my bed in the hotel room (and some pizza).
Buster the Night Walker:
Buster also loved his night walks with Dad. Sometimes exciting smells would surface. One time they came face to face with a coyote. Most of the time they just walked and sniffed.
Buster the Pot Licker:
I'm pretty sure that the highlight of every day during his retirement was when Mom would let him lick the dinner plates and the greasy pots and pans. It was Buster's dream come true!
There are so many Buster stories and so many Buster memories. He was a wonderful, sweet dog, who enriched a lot of lives with his charms and antics. He was a big part of the life that Jim and I built together and a big part of Mom and Dad's life after we moved to London. We all loved him and we all miss him.
