These two joined our family at the first of January. Since losing Bubba, I had tried twice to adopt a frenchie, but was turned down both times. Why? I don’t know. I was encouraged to keep trying, but Bertha and I weren’t getting any younger. Filling out reams of paperwork for each dog and waiting up to two months for the rejection is not a positive experience. Besides, I am no masochist. So I looked up Bertha’s breeder, and lo and behold she had two litters ready to find families. Bingo!
If you’re wondering why I didn’t adopt from a local shelter, it’s because I needed a breed that would be a good companion for my Bertha, not jump my four foot fence, and not dig too much in the garden. I have always loved the squish-nosed breeds, and in the past I had adopted two pugs and a Boston Terrier. The pugs had a lot of health and behavior issues, and the Boston breed is generally too high strung. So it was suggested that I try the French Bulldog, and that is how I came to purchase Bubba in 2003 and Bertha in 2006.
Back to the reason why I didn’t adopt. In my search for a dog to adopt, I discovered that the shelters had mostly pit bull mixes and chihuahuas to choose from. In the last few years breed specific rescue groups have formed. So when a specific breed of dog finds its way to the shelter, that shelter will then call the appropriate rescue group, and that group will then place the dog into a foster home. I think this is wonderful. The advantage of adopting through one of these groups is that each dog’s personality and health issues are discovered while in foster care, and this information along with photos are placed online. Unfortunately I was not chosen for either of the two I wanted to adopt.
It was my intention to only purchase one puppy, but my vet strongly suggested that I get two. That way Bertha could be the queen bee, and the two little ones could bond, play together, and wear each other out. It’s now quite obvious that my vet was not thinking of what all this puppy energy would do to me. Let me tell you… I just love getting up at three in the morning to take them out in the freezing sleet for their potty break. And what’s even more fun is having to ditch the umbrella in order to carry both out, since they refuse to leave their crate, only to have them run right back inside after having put them down onto the soggy grass. You can guess what happens next. Indoor clean up!