What Goes Around Comes Around…in Rescue.
Dale Hardy Roberts © April 2005 –
Reprinted with Permission
Part I: Judge Blaeuer.
I fell in love with Bullies the first time I saw one. Isn’t that usually the case? But I knew I better than to try to own a dog until I was out of
law school and had a house with a fenced-in yard. Several years later, I was finally situated and ready for a Bully.
My only lead was a Circuit Court Judge in Moberly, Missouri, about 30 miles away. I had appeared in his court on a few occasions. I didn’t
know him well, and my limited exposure to him left me thinking he was the model of a old-time Judge, slightly aloof, something of a
curmudgeon, and …well, stern would be a good way to describe him.
So, I was surprised to hear people say “Judge Blaeuer raises Bull Terriers. In fact, you should see him when he comes home from the
courthouse. He gets out of his car, drops to the ground, and rolls around in the yard with his bully as if he were a seven year old kid!”
(Are we talking about the same crusty old Judge who puts me in my place?)
So, with some trepidation, I called the Judge. The moment I said the magic words “Bull Terrier,” he became a different person. After
interrogating me, to ensure I’d provide a good home, he put me in touch with the right people. In November of 1990, I drove straight
through, from Columbia to Kilgore Texas, and picked up my Bully. I quickly recognized his personality and named him “Groucho” (as in,
Groucho Marx.) A month later I was watching him run across a meadow at sunset and said to myself, out loud, “Mirabile Visu!”
You see, I did my undergrad at Creighton University, a private Catholic School that is run by the Jesuits. Anytime Father McGloin (an old
white-haired priest) walked into the classroom and found us in our places, with our Latin texts open and ready to begin, he would sweep
his arms open before him and pronounce “Mirabile Visu!” Which, of course, is Latin for “what a wonderful sight to behold!” (Translated
verbatim it is “what a miraculous thing to see.”) Watching Groucho cross that meadow with the sun setting behind him was a sight I’ll
never forget. And uttering “Mirabile Visu” came naturally. So, his registered name was Mirabile Visu, and ended up being CH. BooneBullys
Mirabile Visu, CGC.
I became a Judge in another part of the state and rarely again spoke to Judge Blaeuer but I would never forget his assistance in getting my
first Bully! And, notwithstanding his demeanor on the bench, I never forgot what a truly wonderful person Judge Blaeuer really was.
Part II: Groucho and Odysseus.
Groucho died 30 days before his 14th birthday. He had survived cancer, numerous strokes, and finally, kidney failure. He was, of
course, the most wonderful dog in the world. (Aren’t they all?) He was a white Bully so, on Halloween, I would draw a big red circle
around his eye and allow him to greet the trick-or-treaters as they came to our door. All the kids recognized him as “the Target dog” and
they loved seeing him each year. He loved the strange people who came to the door and was quite amused at their strange appearance.
A few months after Groucho died, I contacted Bull Terrier rescue. I knew I wanted another Bully, I knew I wanted to rescue a homeless
dog, as there are so many of them out there, and I knew BT Rescue was “Bull Terrier Central” when it comes to Bully rescue.
“I’ll take an older dog” I told them “because I know they are hard to place, and I am not all that anxious to go through puppy-hood again! I
would also take a dog with special health care needs. I have the Mizzou Vet School just a mile from my home so I have the resources to
care for a dog with special needs and, again, I know they are harder to place.”
Two weeks later they called me back. “I know this is probably not the dog for you, he is a puppy and in good health. But he is in a tough
spot, his owner cannot keep him and we need to get him out of there for her.” They asked if I would pick him up, evaluate him, and then
put him on a plane. I was happy to help. I was already planning on adopting an older Bully from California, and was trying to figure out the
logistics.
The dog is in Sioux Falls, S.D., she told me. That’s about an 8 hour drive from my home in Columbia, Mo. But it was for a good cause and,
as she said, you might decide this is the dog for you. When she told me his name, I felt I was being set-up. “Odysseus” she said.
She couldn’t have known, but my undergraduate degree was in Latin, and Classical Civilization. In order to graduate, I had to be able to
read write and speak, Greek and Latin. “Odysseus” I thought to myself “was the Greek hero who traveled the world, trying to find his
way home.” Here I was, going to rescue a dog who had been in two homes already, and was looking for his (permanent) home. The
“coincidence” wasn’t lost on me.
Odysseus was not the dog I asked for, but he was everything I wanted. I kept him and, although he has eaten my Berber carpet, the
Bluetooth headset to my Blackberry, and numerous dustpans, I’d be lost without him.
Part III: Dozer Arrives.
I was on the Board of Directors of the Central Missouri Human Society and everyone there knew my love of Bullies. They had known
Groucho and they had all gotten to know Odysseus. So, when someone called the Shelter to say she was bringing in a Bull Terrier to
relinquish, the staff called me right away.
I called the young girl in question, she wanted a promise that, if she brought him in, he would not be put down. She had rescued him from
a puppy-mill in northern Missouri. I promised her my help and we made plans to meet at the Shelter at 8:30 am on a Sunday morning.
When I got there the staff told me she had been waiting. Bless her heart, she must’ve gotten up at 5 in the morning to drive him down
here. (I think she was from Kirksville.)
There was Dozer, he reminded me of Groucho. But this poor boy had obviously led an awful life. He looked awful and his foot was so
badly infected, swollen, and green, that we really thought he’d lose it. Dozer was afraid of me at first, you could tell he was apprehensive
around men and probably for good reason. I finally got him to accept a Danish from me and we became friends.
I have been taking my own bully to Dr. Rose, at Rolling Hills, for about 14 years. He knows Bullies and is really good with them. (Plus, he’s
a nice guy) So I called him at home, on a Sunday, and he came to Dozer’s rescue. Within a few hours Dozer had an injection of
antibiotics, and was soaking his feet in a warm bath. Everyone at the Shelter loved him and the next thing I knew he was swaddled in
baby blankets and ensconced in the manager’s office.
Dozer spent the next week or two living with the girls that worked at the shelter. They let him soak his feet in their bathtub at home, and
showered him with TLC. Once he got a better we started looking for a home for him. A fellow Board Member said he’d like to foster Dozer
for a while. I thought that was much better than sending Dozer away to a new home, as we knew he needed continued care for his feet,
and John was willing and able to ensure that Dozer got the care he needed.
I really wanted Dozer for myself, but I had just adopted Odysseus about two months earlier, and I knew that two males, might not go well
together. But Dozer was a gorgeous boy and deserved a special home, to make up for all the abuse and neglect he had seen in his life.
So, a year later, when John told me someone had adopted Dozer and given him a permanent home, I was immediately concerned. Had
John found a good home? Was this new owner someone who could handle a Bully? Poor Dozer had been through so much, I was really
worried about him. Then John told me the rest of the story. “She made a good impression on me” John told me “and I think she’ll give him a
good home. She said her family had Bull Terriers when she was growing up, in Moberly.” When I heard Moberly and Bull Terriers in the
same sentence I perked up. Nah, it couldn't’t be.
Before I could ask any questions, John went on to say “I don’t think she’d mind if you call her, and I have her e-mail address, he last name
is ‘Blower’ or “Blue-er” or something like that… “BLAEUR!” I said. “Her name is BLAEUR and she’s from Moberly, are you kidding me! I
know her dad! Her dad helped me get MY first Bull Terrier!”
Epilogue:
I was sent to rescue Odysseus, a Greek hero I had studied in college. Then I rescued Dozer, whom I otherwise would have rescued (and
kept), and he ended up being placed with the daughter of the man who helped me get MY first Bull Terrier. Maybe it is true, that what
goes around comes around.
All I know is this: I have come home more times than I can recount, tired, unhappy or upset, and waiting for me is my Bully with a big smile
on his face. I rescued them once, and they have rescued me 1000 times in return.
Dale Hardy Roberts © April 2005 –
Reprinted with Permission
Part I: Judge Blaeuer.
I fell in love with Bullies the first time I saw one. Isn’t that usually the case? But I knew I better than to try to own a dog until I was out of
law school and had a house with a fenced-in yard. Several years later, I was finally situated and ready for a Bully.
My only lead was a Circuit Court Judge in Moberly, Missouri, about 30 miles away. I had appeared in his court on a few occasions. I didn’t
know him well, and my limited exposure to him left me thinking he was the model of a old-time Judge, slightly aloof, something of a
curmudgeon, and …well, stern would be a good way to describe him.
So, I was surprised to hear people say “Judge Blaeuer raises Bull Terriers. In fact, you should see him when he comes home from the
courthouse. He gets out of his car, drops to the ground, and rolls around in the yard with his bully as if he were a seven year old kid!”
(Are we talking about the same crusty old Judge who puts me in my place?)
So, with some trepidation, I called the Judge. The moment I said the magic words “Bull Terrier,” he became a different person. After
interrogating me, to ensure I’d provide a good home, he put me in touch with the right people. In November of 1990, I drove straight
through, from Columbia to Kilgore Texas, and picked up my Bully. I quickly recognized his personality and named him “Groucho” (as in,
Groucho Marx.) A month later I was watching him run across a meadow at sunset and said to myself, out loud, “Mirabile Visu!”
You see, I did my undergrad at Creighton University, a private Catholic School that is run by the Jesuits. Anytime Father McGloin (an old
white-haired priest) walked into the classroom and found us in our places, with our Latin texts open and ready to begin, he would sweep
his arms open before him and pronounce “Mirabile Visu!” Which, of course, is Latin for “what a wonderful sight to behold!” (Translated
verbatim it is “what a miraculous thing to see.”) Watching Groucho cross that meadow with the sun setting behind him was a sight I’ll
never forget. And uttering “Mirabile Visu” came naturally. So, his registered name was Mirabile Visu, and ended up being CH. BooneBullys
Mirabile Visu, CGC.
I became a Judge in another part of the state and rarely again spoke to Judge Blaeuer but I would never forget his assistance in getting my
first Bully! And, notwithstanding his demeanor on the bench, I never forgot what a truly wonderful person Judge Blaeuer really was.
Part II: Groucho and Odysseus.
Groucho died 30 days before his 14th birthday. He had survived cancer, numerous strokes, and finally, kidney failure. He was, of
course, the most wonderful dog in the world. (Aren’t they all?) He was a white Bully so, on Halloween, I would draw a big red circle
around his eye and allow him to greet the trick-or-treaters as they came to our door. All the kids recognized him as “the Target dog” and
they loved seeing him each year. He loved the strange people who came to the door and was quite amused at their strange appearance.
A few months after Groucho died, I contacted Bull Terrier rescue. I knew I wanted another Bully, I knew I wanted to rescue a homeless
dog, as there are so many of them out there, and I knew BT Rescue was “Bull Terrier Central” when it comes to Bully rescue.
“I’ll take an older dog” I told them “because I know they are hard to place, and I am not all that anxious to go through puppy-hood again! I
would also take a dog with special health care needs. I have the Mizzou Vet School just a mile from my home so I have the resources to
care for a dog with special needs and, again, I know they are harder to place.”
Two weeks later they called me back. “I know this is probably not the dog for you, he is a puppy and in good health. But he is in a tough
spot, his owner cannot keep him and we need to get him out of there for her.” They asked if I would pick him up, evaluate him, and then
put him on a plane. I was happy to help. I was already planning on adopting an older Bully from California, and was trying to figure out the
logistics.
The dog is in Sioux Falls, S.D., she told me. That’s about an 8 hour drive from my home in Columbia, Mo. But it was for a good cause and,
as she said, you might decide this is the dog for you. When she told me his name, I felt I was being set-up. “Odysseus” she said.
She couldn’t have known, but my undergraduate degree was in Latin, and Classical Civilization. In order to graduate, I had to be able to
read write and speak, Greek and Latin. “Odysseus” I thought to myself “was the Greek hero who traveled the world, trying to find his
way home.” Here I was, going to rescue a dog who had been in two homes already, and was looking for his (permanent) home. The
“coincidence” wasn’t lost on me.
Odysseus was not the dog I asked for, but he was everything I wanted. I kept him and, although he has eaten my Berber carpet, the
Bluetooth headset to my Blackberry, and numerous dustpans, I’d be lost without him.
Part III: Dozer Arrives.
I was on the Board of Directors of the Central Missouri Human Society and everyone there knew my love of Bullies. They had known
Groucho and they had all gotten to know Odysseus. So, when someone called the Shelter to say she was bringing in a Bull Terrier to
relinquish, the staff called me right away.
I called the young girl in question, she wanted a promise that, if she brought him in, he would not be put down. She had rescued him from
a puppy-mill in northern Missouri. I promised her my help and we made plans to meet at the Shelter at 8:30 am on a Sunday morning.
When I got there the staff told me she had been waiting. Bless her heart, she must’ve gotten up at 5 in the morning to drive him down
here. (I think she was from Kirksville.)
There was Dozer, he reminded me of Groucho. But this poor boy had obviously led an awful life. He looked awful and his foot was so
badly infected, swollen, and green, that we really thought he’d lose it. Dozer was afraid of me at first, you could tell he was apprehensive
around men and probably for good reason. I finally got him to accept a Danish from me and we became friends.
I have been taking my own bully to Dr. Rose, at Rolling Hills, for about 14 years. He knows Bullies and is really good with them. (Plus, he’s
a nice guy) So I called him at home, on a Sunday, and he came to Dozer’s rescue. Within a few hours Dozer had an injection of
antibiotics, and was soaking his feet in a warm bath. Everyone at the Shelter loved him and the next thing I knew he was swaddled in
baby blankets and ensconced in the manager’s office.
Dozer spent the next week or two living with the girls that worked at the shelter. They let him soak his feet in their bathtub at home, and
showered him with TLC. Once he got a better we started looking for a home for him. A fellow Board Member said he’d like to foster Dozer
for a while. I thought that was much better than sending Dozer away to a new home, as we knew he needed continued care for his feet,
and John was willing and able to ensure that Dozer got the care he needed.
I really wanted Dozer for myself, but I had just adopted Odysseus about two months earlier, and I knew that two males, might not go well
together. But Dozer was a gorgeous boy and deserved a special home, to make up for all the abuse and neglect he had seen in his life.
So, a year later, when John told me someone had adopted Dozer and given him a permanent home, I was immediately concerned. Had
John found a good home? Was this new owner someone who could handle a Bully? Poor Dozer had been through so much, I was really
worried about him. Then John told me the rest of the story. “She made a good impression on me” John told me “and I think she’ll give him a
good home. She said her family had Bull Terriers when she was growing up, in Moberly.” When I heard Moberly and Bull Terriers in the
same sentence I perked up. Nah, it couldn't’t be.
Before I could ask any questions, John went on to say “I don’t think she’d mind if you call her, and I have her e-mail address, he last name
is ‘Blower’ or “Blue-er” or something like that… “BLAEUR!” I said. “Her name is BLAEUR and she’s from Moberly, are you kidding me! I
know her dad! Her dad helped me get MY first Bull Terrier!”
Epilogue:
I was sent to rescue Odysseus, a Greek hero I had studied in college. Then I rescued Dozer, whom I otherwise would have rescued (and
kept), and he ended up being placed with the daughter of the man who helped me get MY first Bull Terrier. Maybe it is true, that what
goes around comes around.
All I know is this: I have come home more times than I can recount, tired, unhappy or upset, and waiting for me is my Bully with a big smile
on his face. I rescued them once, and they have rescued me 1000 times in return.
Groucho
| Dozer Smiles |
| Groucho Smiles |
| Odysseus Smiles |
Dozer