Anybody who has known me for any length of time knows I have never liked dogs. I didn't like dogs for exactly the same reasons that people who do like dogs like them: They greet you the minute you come home, follow you everywhere, beg for attention, and give you lots of kisses in the form of doggie tongue slurps. Attributes I once thought belonged to pets that required owners in need of instant gratification.

I mean, come on...anyone who has ever been around a cat knows they don't come bugging you the minute you walk in the door. They are way too cool for that. The only way to call a cat is with the sound of expensive kitty food being opened!

But, I digress

Upon hearing that I had taken up with a dog, my friend Janie started laughing, (and continued for some time), and finally exclaimed, "I can't wait to get up there to see the dog that finally won you over!" I must admit he was a very special "one of a kind" dog.

We found him curled up on the porch, apparently waiting to die. He was so starved and dehydrated that we couldn't even get him to drink and had to force fluids down him with a syringe. Most of his hair had fallen out due to malnutrition and mange and he had massive ear and bladder infections, (which meant he was oozing stuff from both ends). He smelled so bad that you couldn't get within 10 feet of him without holding your nose. You could tell he had been beaten by the way he cowered whenever you approached him. One doozy of a special dog, all right!

One of our guests walked up to him, went to her knees, took that pitiful, (stinky, mangy), doggie head in her hands, and started kissing on and cooing to him. Something in my brain/heart said, "If someone can kiss on that dog, there must be something there worth loving."

And, the dog, (then unnamed), was extremely fortunate that the house was full of dog lovers that weekend. They all went on about how the inn needed a dog and this one was perfect!???? A somewhat informal contest was held for a name and Roufus won out, mainly because that is the sound he makes when he does his doggie noise thing.... "Rooouuuuf, rooouuuuf."

The woman kissing on him got shampoo, dip, ear medicine, vitamins, food...and spent the whole weekend trying to get him in shape. She did manage to get the stink to subside for a few days. Some other guests gave money for the vet bill and a third couple offered to help me get him there.

We got to the vets, and after a quick exam and some blood work, the sentence was pronounced: Roufus P. Dawg, (his official name of record), in addition to all the visible skin, bladder, and ear problems had worn down his teeth trying to chew out of a cage AND had heartworms. He was old and very weak. The vet and the two doggie people were teary-eyed. Somehow, they were all in love with this half-dead dog and knew what the test results meant.

I looked at the pitiful dog. Then I looked at the vet, (a cute Kenny Rodgers kind of guy), and then at the guests who had come with me. I asked the vet, "Can the dog be saved?"

Well, yes...with lots of patience, luck, love...and money.

I looked at all the teary eyed expectant faces again. I then turned to the vet and uttered words that came from some other place in the universe, "Well, there is a $600 tax refund check sitting on my desk at home. If it will help the dog, he can have it."

The vet went nuts. He was so excited. He said if I was willing to give this dog a home and put up that kind of money, he and his staff would cover all the other costs! I was trying to figure out what I was going to tell Mike. After all...it was, until a minute ago, his refund check.

Mike was in Dallas doing some computer contract work. That night I called him. My first words were"How much do you love me?" which is a code to him that I had just done something really stupid, but that he should count to 10 while he thought real hard whether there was any good reason not to push me down a well when he got home.

Roufus stayed at the vets for two weeks. He survived the heartworm cure, his ears and bladder got better and his coat was a shiny black and tan that had only the slightest doggie aroma. When I went to pay the bill, I found that the couple who had originally gone with me, had sneaked back after I left and paid $100 against the bill.

His first few weeks at home were touch and go, as he had to be kept somewhat inactive. The heartworms die and then slough off through the lungs. He slowly revived, but that dog seemed to be bone-lazy. This tendency had gone unnoticed by Mom, who came creeping into my room one morning and woke me up with the concerned pronouncement, "Honey, Roufus is dying."

I came flying out of bed and out the back door to stop short when I saw him sleeping at the bottom of the stairs. I turned to Mom and said, "He's fine. That's just Roufus."

"Oh, no," she countered, "He hasn't moved for 45 minutes and I even went down and tried to get him to lift his head."

I told her to stand back and watch as I retrieved a piece of ham from the kitchen. You talk about life after death! That dog was up in a flash and gobbled it down in one bite.

He was so happy to be alive and living with us that it made you happy just to look at him. Everyone that came to the inn loved him. He would greet people as they arrived, sleep by them at the hammock and take them for walks through the woods. He didn't jump on you or lick you and rarely barked. After his bath one day he licked himself all over...very cat-like, if you ask me. (Mike suggested that it was because he had noticed the cats did that and we never bathed them!)

Speaking of cats, they learned to "tolerate" his presence and seemed to be coming 'round to just ignoring him...which was all they could do since he didn't even seem to know they existed. He just walked past these arched-back, hissing felines without even a sideways glance. They would look confusedly at one another like, "What!??!" So, ignoring him in return seemed to be the only "cool" option left to them.

One of our regular guests told me, "You know, I used to think that a dog was what the inn needed all along." I think he was right.

I was at the campfire one night and Biscuit, (one of the cats), came out and went to the head of the trail like she was inviting me to go for a walk. She has never come out that far before. When Roufus followed me over, she calmly surveyed the situation and then headed on down the trail. So, as we three walked the trail under the dappled light of a full moon, I stopped to look back at the campfire. You could hear the guests' laughter and see the flames flickering in the distance. The inn behind that glowed softly with the white twinkling lights outlining the porch and fence and the warm yellow light emanating from all of the windows. The air was crisp and smelled of wood smoke. I had the distinct feeling that the inn was now complete and my life was about as happy as it had ever been.

All because of a stupid dog.

Epilogue:

We lost Roufus 3 years later. But before that sad day we had spoiled him rotten. Mike pointed out that very few old black and tan coonhounds spend their retirement years sleeping in a king-sized bed. (Yes, my conversion was complete.)

And he had helped welcome another stray who we named Dancer. Now the inn has 3 dogs and 3 cats. Two of the dogs sleep in a king-sized bed!

Photos and more about Roufus and the rest of the menagerie can be found on our web site in the "Pets on Parade" section of the "Photo Album". Roufus is in the "Memories" section.

Copyright 2008 – Rhonda Hicks.
All Rights Reserved.

Reprint Rights: You may reprint this article as long as the article is printed in it’s entirety.

Michael and Rhonda Hicks are the owners and innkeepers of the Mountain Thyme Bed & Breakfast Inn located near Hot Springs, Arkansas.
www.MountainThyme.com