Rufus
I should have known this guy would be trouble from the moment I saw him.
There he was, held out by some sketchy dog selling dude, outside the central market of Trujillo. On one arm was my future pooch, on the other his brother. Both shivering. I wavered. Should I get a puppy? Which one? Meanwhile, Kevin stood by rolling his eyes. So, like a good Peruvian market shopper, I decided what I wanted to purchase and then I haggled. Yes, I haggled down the price of my dog. We came to an agreement, and then I turned to Kevin and asked “Can I borrow some money?”.
And so it began.
Rufus the day I got him, on the floor of the Hostal Naylamp
That night I celebrated my new pooch the way that so many people do - I took him to a brewpub. He was a charmer from the first. I mean, how else could I have taken him into a bar!? I thought it would be a fun way to hang out with my new puppy and some friends. And then he lunged across the table and ate some french fries and tried to drink some beer.
Oh boy.
There was also the not small task of naming the little guy. He wasn’t always Rufus. For a day he was “Baxter”. I tried that on a few Peruvians who thought I was trying to name him “Backstreet Boys”. So that name had to go.
Kevin taught Rufus everything he knew about bad behavior
It was only after some time had passed and Rufus had eaten turtle poop, pooped on the floor of an office, chewed through a couple of leashes and most training efforts had failed that I was informed that Boxers are the “Peter Pan” of the dog world, stuck in puppyhood until the age of 6. I figured that’s what I get for buying a dog on the street.
Rufus enjoying some toys sent to him from los EEUU
Needless to say, having a dog at site was its own interesting cultural exchange experience.
Rufus, just doing his thing. Eating a mix of dog food and potato soup.
It was a struggle to explain that there’s this stuff called dog food and it’s for dogs. But why not just feed him leftovers? (Also, don’t even get me started on the time Granny ate a bite of kibble) The idea of walking a dog for exercise and letting him sit with you and petting him and loving him and giving him toys was just too much. And then what do you do when the dog has escaped and now has your neighbor’s pig by the ear, like a life sized, live action squeaky toy?
I like to think we all learned a lot.
Rufus, enjoying something new. A comfy couch!
Bringing Rufus home was its own unique challenge. Honestly, if I had known how difficult and expensive it would be I don’t know that I would have decided to go through with it. Thank goodness I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
There was no telling how Rufus would react to this entirely new environment (snow! couches! carpet!), new people (my mom wasn’t super thrilled to have a dog in the house) and all around new life.
I’d say he took to it all like a pro.
Glamour shot
Rufus was a special dog. Not just because he was my dog. Rufus was kind of everybody’s dog. He never met a person that didn’t fall in love with him a little. I think this and this are proof of that. Even people he never met adored him.
But there are a lot of ways he wasn’t a perfect dog.
He wasn’t particularly well trained, he sometimes peed on things he shouldn’t have, chewed on things he shouldn’t have, he fought with other dogs, he wasn’t the smartest.
Missing a shoe? Rufus probably has it.
But what he was was full of love. Love of life, love of a good time, love of a warm spot on the window sill, love of a good cuddle, love of his people friends and family, even love of strangers. He didn’t meet a person he wouldn’t shake his nub at. Even on his last day of life, sick and scared in the hospital, when his vet came to his cage for an exam he was happy to see him, shaking his nub.
And that tongue! Who couldn’t love that tongue?!
Rufus trying to cuddle, my mom secretly loving it.
Before she died, my mom said she wished she’d been able to see Rufus one last time. He had won over even his toughest of critics, the woman whose white carpet he’d peed on. I’m not a very spiritual person, but I would be willing to suspend my disbelief if it meant that this scene was playing out somewhere.
Album cover?
So there it is, my turn at writing a Rufus tribute. It’s so hard to put into words because, what more can I say? He was my first dog. He was the best dog. He drove me crazy and I love him to bits for it.
When our vet talked to us about Rufus’ illness, it was so hard for all of us. But he said that, as hard as it is to know that your pet doesn’t have much time, it makes that remaining time all the more special. We took that to heart. We took him on long walks. Gave him extra pets and hugs. Laid with him in the yard.
BFFs by the lake
But it’s still so hard. The apartment is too quiet without him. It was Rufus that had to leave us, and we are left, wishing we could see him one last time.
We miss you Rufus.
