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Tuesday, Dec. 14, 2004 - 9:20 p.m. When Sprout joined our household, back in 1990, he was either 1, 1 �, or 2 years old. There was no way to know for sure. He was rescued from a �puppy mill� by the folks from the nearby Humane Society. The mill kept shoddy records. All that mattered to them was selling one more dog. He didn�t have a name, either. He was known as �stud dog�. He might have been the only male Brussels Griffon, and his job was to keep the females�happy. He had never been out of the basement of the owner�s house, and spent his entire life on newspapers scattered on the basement floor. When the animal control people brought him up out of the basement and set him down outside in the grass, he collapsed on his belly and refused to move. He had never seen the sun, let alone the pleasures of walking on cool grass. My sister took him in (she was even bigger in the rescue community back then). She also knew that he would have a rough time living in her home, with all of the other dogs and cats already living with her. Soooo�.. She asked us if we wanted to take him on. We had just put down our first two dogs (each, due to cancer) after long lives. We had Roadie, and another rescue dog (a mixed hunting dog with very bad intestinal problems that caused him so much distress we had to put him to sleep, too). She thought this dog we do much better in our home, with less competition. And the rest (as they say) is history. Named Sprout by me (showing very little creativity on my part, the day we took him home), he has been the Alpha dog of our pack from day one. Don�t tell him he is small (now down to 5 pounds, 15 ounces). He doesn�t let either Jay-Dog or Tony Bonehead ever get a paw up on him. Why am I telling you this story today? Well�since we really don�t know how old he is, we just consider the day he is due for his vaccines his �birthday�. That day was yesterday. Using the younger range of what they told us, that would make him at least 15 years old. He is almost completely blind. He has developed a bald ridge down the middle of his back, all the way to the tip of his tail (we now have him in dog sweaters and fleece at all times, except when he is outside going to the bathroom) And he is about the happiest, healthiest old man you might ever meet. The vet always tells us he is amazed at how well he is doing, considering his age. So, to celebrate his birthday, I figured I would post a brand new photograph, taken on the back patio tonight:
Happy birthday, old guy� I also took pictures of something I noticed was still growing in my garden. More on that tomorrow�.
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