Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends

I am a huge fan of the Boston Terrier. My first two, Coco and Darth Vader, went missing from our fenced yard in February of 2011 and have not been seen since. In the spring of 2012, we adopted Chichi, who passed away suddenly just a few months later.

After Chichi died, Jason and I didn’t know if we were ready to commit to another dog, especially because our elderly beagle, Bailey, is in the middle of a long, slow decline.

Truman fell into our laps totally by accident, and he was our first foster dog. He has now been adopted by a family in Georgia who has one child and (very important) no cats. The family reports that he is doing great.

Which brings me to Wednesday.

Because most Bostons look basically the same, I occasionally get e-mails from friends who have spotted lost-and-found Bostons who might be Coco. On Wednesday, a co-worker told me that there was a Boston in Animal Control’s mug shot lineup of animals who have been picked up over the week, and it might be mine. After confirming that the dog in the blurry photo did, in fact, look a good deal like Coco, I called the shelter.

(Note: This is not the first time this has happened. The lady who runs the local Boston Terrier rescue has had to break my heart on several occasions.)

When the lost-and-found coordinator answered, I breathlessly rushed into my monologue: “I had a Boston Terrier, and it was taken from my yard, and I think you have her, and I have her vet paperwork and pictures if you need to see them….”



“Um, it’s a dude.”


I hung up the phone. And then I got to thinking. That may not be MY dog behind that chain-link fence, but it’s A dog who would probably appreciate a warm, quiet place to sleep, and a little affection.

I called the shelter back. The dog had been picked up as a stray on the 7th of December, and was due to be released on the 13th. However, he had unspecified eye injuries/problems, possible blindness, and was slated to be taken in by the Boston Terrier Rescue. That was my next call. Sue, the rescue lady, told me that she didn’t have anyone to take the dog in, so (after consultation with my better half) I offered to foster him.

Yesterday I picked him up at lunch, and finally got a good look at his eyes. In short, they were MESSED UP. The left eye looked intact, but red and cloudy, and the right eye looked collapsed, gray, and gnarly. Bless his heart.

I took him to the car, lifted him into the passenger seat, and after a long grateful look in my direction, he lay down and went to sleep.

Dog 1

He was fine when I got him home, but it was obvious that his pain level and discomfort were increasing throughout the evening. At 8:30, I called Sue and asked what we could give him to help. He was grimacing, twisting his head to one side, and tensed from head to tail.


(That’s his good eye.)

Sue agreed to meet us at a CVS between our houses to give us pain medication, prednisone, and eye drops. She also agreed that he needed to be seen by a vet as soon as possible. We were standing in the parking lot, going over dosages, when the CVS was robbed at gunpoint. Seriously. It was that kind of night.


Since he’s probably blind, we’ve started calling him Homer. Tyler thinks he’s great, and while Ron was a bit hesitant at first…….


……… he has warmed up considerably.


Homer is at the vet today, and there’s a good chance he’ll lose one of his eyes; however, a one-eyed dog is infinitely preferable to the suffering I witnessed last night. And when he’s done at the vet’s, he’ll come home to a warm bed and belly-rubs, instead of a concrete pen or worse. It’s the least we can do.





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