In shelter DogLa Grange Highlands, IL, 60525
I should have written his bio by now. He’s been with me a month. I have no bio. I have about 27 drafts that just aren’t cutting it. He will have a bio. And the fact that it’s taking this long for me to figure out, means…it’s gonna be a doozie. His name was, Grandpa, at animal control. Luring me in with a “geriatric” pit bull named, Grandpa. They knew that’s how they could get me. Well played, CACC, well played. Straight up, bait and switch! We already had a dog named, Grandpa, up for adoption, so that name wouldn’t work. A new name was in order. While still under the impression I was pulling an old man, I renamed him, Mr. Fredrickson. That name doesn’t work for him at all. While he may appear to be old, he’s the mother effing, Benjamin Button of dogs. He makes no sense. Week 1: He spent his 1st week humping things. This wasn’t your normal, anxious, nervous, excited humping. But rather…lengthy hump sessions. In fact, they were so long and strenuous, panting breaks were necessary. *wakes up to noises at 2am, and wonders what the hell the new dog is doing* *investigates mysterious noises* *realizes new foster is going to town on some blankets he stole off your bed* *sigh* He and I really came to a head when I walked away for 2 minutes and came back to him humping my pillow. My main pillow. The one I put my face on. Luckily, we got past our hump fest phase. Week 2: Imagine a puppy. A terrible, chewing, in anything and everything, kind of puppy. Now, enlarge that puppy, to a 75lb dog. A dog that can open drawers, open the shower door, jump on tables, chairs, desks (GLASS DESKS!), knock down computers, steal the letters off of your keyboard, and when given 45 seconds alone, manages to go in a cabinet, steal a brand new box of tampons, and throw them wherever he sees fit. Do you know how hard it is to type when you’re missing your letter ‘C’? He stole my letter ‘T’ too, but I found that one. Finding my letter ‘T’ was the highlight of that day. I had a funeral for letter ‘C’. I really wish that I had appreciated letter ‘C’ more while he was still with us. Letters on keyboards are far more important than we give them credit for. Week 2 Continued: Benjamin, gets neutered. On that same day, another one of our dogs has a blockage. Benjamin and our other dog are at the same vet. Our dog with the blockage is getting X-rays. Vet calls me to give me an update on who I thought was the blockage dog. Vet says we need to do X-rays. Yeah…I know, that’s why he’s there. The vet then informs me she’s not talking about our blockage dog. She’s talking about our dog who is getting neutered. He’s thrown up some strange things (I’m not sure I even want to know what) and she is concerned he has a blockage. Great. We have 2 dogs at the same vet, both appearing to have blockages. Stellar rescuers we are! Clearly! Good news is, he didn’t have a blockage. Just a bunch of random crap that would eventually find its way out. Week 3: We had gotten into a solid routine of me being shocked at the things he would do…and things he would attempt to do…right in front of my face. This routine usually consists of me cleaning up some mess he made, trying to “trade up” and get things away from him, he shouldn’t have, giving him a lecture, and moving my hands, in an animated way, while I speak. I’m animated. Especially while lecturing. During one of these animated, cleaning lectures, Benjamin did some sort of movement. The movement seemed to be in response to a command. Yet, I hadn’t given a command. I was lecture cleaning. Then I realized, he had reacted to one of my hand movements. So, I asked him to sit. Nailed it. Paw. Nailed it. Other paw. Nailed it. Down. Nailed it. Rollover. Nailed it. And although I haven’t quite figured out the words or movements he was trained with originally, he knows to spin in a circle one way, and then the other. I even went out on a limb, put my hand up in the air and yelled “high five!” Dude got on his hind legs, and double paw, high fived me. What the actual f***??? Week 4: I realized, he sharts. He sharts regularly. This was an incredibly disturbing discovery on week 4. One month in, I realized the dog that sleeps next to me in bed, and farts a lot…is actually sharting. What I believed were innocent farts, were actually small puffs, of bedsheet destruction. Peacefully co-existing with me, during my slumber. *dry heaves* Does he have an oral fixation? PICA? Both? Whatever it is, it’s not normal. He must have something in his mouth, and must be chewing something at all times. Appropriate things, and inappropriate things. ALL the things. If you call him over, he gladly comes! But not before he makes sure he’s got the perfect thing to bring with him. What will the perfect thing be? Your guess is as good as mine. It could be a dog toy, or he may come bearing a Q-tip and a used tampon applicator. Options are limitless when you’ve moved garbage cans to every place imaginable, you have lids on them, and he still manages to find a way to get within reach. He steals things. Straight up klepto. Things he steals: $56 bottles of vegan superberry dream mask, $36 bottles of kale and green tea spinach face cleanser, $42 Adaptogen Soothe + Hydrate Activated Mist, toothbrushes, floss, tweezers, and his favorite of ALL the things to steal…my hairbrush. I can’t tell you how elated I am, when I get out of the shower and realize the super awesome new hiding spot for my hairbrush, wasn’t super awesome or hidden. The houseguest from hell found it, and took it. Again. I was already teetering on the edge of natural dreadlocks, due to of lack of time, and length of hair. But now…full on dirty hippie. Bringing dreads back, folks! He’s a food hound. Normal for a dog…of course. But this one is stealthy, fast, and ballsy. You turn your head for one moment, there goes your elote. Who steals someone else’s elote? I’m not playing when it comes to Mexican street corn! And, as if stealing my elote didn’t cut me deep enough…10 minutes later…he vomited. A thousand corn kernels. On. My. Bed. I have so many questions now that Benjamin has entered my life. Who the hell is this dog? Where did he come from? Is there a cure for sharting? Where is my letter ‘C’? How many tampons in that box will be puncture free, and useable? How many times did I unknowingly roll over in bed, right onto a shart? Why does he know a ton of tricks and commands? Do natural dreads just need to be cut out? This was supposed to be a short update on my foster, to explain why I hadn’t written a bio yet. There was just no way I could write a bio and pretend we had a perfect senior for adoption. He’d be returned. During this update, I believe I accidentally wrote his bio. Since I did this process ass backwards, I’ll place the pertinent info at the bottom, instead of the top. An ass backwards bio, seems perfectly appropriate, for an ass backwards dog. Benjamin Button Breed: Pit Mix Gender: Male Age: NOT GERIATRIC!!! Weight: 75lbs Kid Friendly: Yes Cat Friendly: Unknown Dog Friendly: Probably Potty Trained: Yes Crate Trained: Yes Vaccinated: Yes Neutered: Yes Microchipped: Yes, but do we really want him to find his way back? No. No, we don’t. Location: Benjamin is being fostered in Aurora, IL. Normally we say “no out of state applicants” but I’m hoping to find an adopter as far away from me as possible. Benjamin is a pain in my ass. He’s puzzling. At the same time, he’s a very nice boy. He doesn’t eat people’s faces, he loves to be pet (with something in his mouth), his tail spins in a circle when he’s super excited, he’s amazing in the crate, and he’s a happy guy. He’s so freaking odd. I hate him so much, that I kinda love him a little. Almost forgot our weirdest moment upon his arrival! Sunday. Laundry day. Clean baskets of clothes, placed on the floor. I walk into the room to find him, sitting directly on top of a clean basket of clothes. His tail wasn’t covering his butthole. Butthole was directly touching the clean clothes. There he sat. Probably sharting. Like it was regular. Any takers? Anyone interested in adopting? I won’t hold my breath. If you’re interested in meeting Benjamin, please fill out an app at darkhorsedogs.org.