[Dailydrool] Horton's birthday celebration

[Pamela McQuade]

Horton came into rescue as a stray, along with his brother. The two of 
them had been wandering about with their mama in one of the Carolinas. 
After mama got adopted down south, the boys (whose names were 
then Speckles and Freckles) came north into Tri-State's care.

Speckles insisted on being adopted at TSBHR's Howliday Party. Though his 
current people were planning on taking another hound, Speckles pushed 
his way into the male slave's face and asked to go home with him. 
Freckles (or Horton as TSBHR's president had renamed him, since at about 
the same time there was another Freckles in the rescue) hid in one 
corner of the ex pen throughout the event. I remember seeing him and 
feeling very sorry for him.

Drew and I left the party with another foster, Baby. I never would have 
thought I'd see that fearful puppy again. But after the adoption 
arranged for him turned disastrous, I agreed to foster Horton (all the 
while loudly proclaiming that I do not do puppies). He now had a broken 
leg from a car accident and needed a foster home with a ramp, and we had 
a ramp.

The rest is history. Horton came, and I could not let him go. Within 24 
hours, this fearful fellow had bonded to me, and though I tried to let 
him go when his leg was healed, I simply could not do it. After two 
potential adoptions fell through, it was clear it was meant to be, and 
we failed fostering yet again.

When we saw the orthopedist in January, he opined that Horton was a bit 
over a year old. So since CBHR had his shots done on October 31, I am 
claiming this as Horton's birthday. At the very least, it was a day of 
big changes for him.

Thank you, CBHR for working with Tri-State to find this boy a home. I 
just can't imagine not having him, and I am so glad you were there to 
help him when he needed it. Thank you Tri-State for convincing me that 
Horton would not be a rerun of our impy puppy Jane and giving him to us 
to foster.

So celebrate with us the joys of a dog whose life was saved by two 
rescue groups, escaped death in a car accident, and healed perfectly 
under an excellent orthopedist's care. Horton's life went from miserable 
to cushy because of all the many folks who cared. There are no better 
folks than basset rescue ones. I'm sure Horton would agree!
Pam, food slave to the Dashing Bassets