PUPDATE! Deng Jr. (now know as Milton) 

Karen:   The dog you knew as Deng Jr has been renamed Milton.

Milton:  Hey, get the name right.  I’m not just “Milton”.  I am Milton THE MAGNIFICENT….or to my close friends, the Big M.  (Mom sometimes calls me some other names too, but we’re not going to get into that right now.)

K: We go on daily walks around the neighborhood and it seems his hips don’t bother him as much and he’s losing some weight.

M:  Walks?!!  More like a death march.  This woman does not realize that when I walk, I need to be given a treat every so often to keep my strength up.  And speaking of treats, she doesn’t believe in them---except for herself.  I’m wasting away.

K:  You’re on a walk, not running a marathon—you don’t need treats along the way.  And you are not wasting away.  You are losing some weight.  I do believe in treats but you don’t eat the ones I give you.

M:  Those hard orange things, mushy white chunks and cold green sticks are not treats.  You’re trying to poison me.

K:  Giving you carrots, bananas and frozen green beans is not trying to poison you.  Plus you get a dog biscuit for lunch and one every time I leave.

M:  She only feeds me hard, brown, dry pebbles.  When I refused to eat them, she took them away and there was nothing until the next meal time.  She wouldn’t put any of that yummy canned food on it like I used to get at the shelter.  I was getting weak from no food, so now I eat the pebbles right up before she can take them away and ask “Please sir, may I have some more?” but she never gives me more.

K:  You weren’t starving and you don’t need canned food and you don’t need “more”; remember you’re on a diet.

M:  She is also ripping out my fur and soon I’ll be naked.

K:  I do not rip out your fur.  You get brushed daily and despite vacuuming daily, I still find tumbleweeds of your fur all over the house.  You have enough fur for 3 dogs.

M:  In the evening she takes me and locks me up in a tiny space and makes me stay there all night.

K:  It’s not tiny; it’s the master bedroom.  And I’m in there with you.

M:  Don’t care.  I’d rather be out in the living room where the sofa is and there is that window in the ceiling so I can see the moon.  Plus you snore.  

K:  I want you sleeping in the bedroom with me.  And none of our previous dogs were allowed on the furniture.  Plus, there are many, many dog beds all through the house.

M:  I’m not “a dog”.  I am Milton the MAGNIFICENT.  And I don’t like dog beds.

K:  Yeah, I’m getting lax in my old age so you can get on the sofa.  But you could try sharing it with me instead of making me squeeze into one end of it.

M:  Milton the MAGNIFICENT needs lots of room.  And where am I supposed to stay when you lock me in the house and go away and leave me alone for days at a time?!

K:  I do not leave you for days.  I leave for 2-3 hours, maximum 4 hours. And you have the whole house and I leave the blinds open for you.

M:  Well that’s days in dog years.  I have to yell at her when she finally comes home (especially when she smells like she’s been with other dogs—I don’t know why she needs other dogs when she has Milton, the MAGNIFICENT) and sometimes I sing to keep myself company when she’s gone.

K: Remember your friends that used to come to the shelters to take you out of your kennel and give you attention?  That’s what I do for dogs here that don’t have homes.  That’s why I sometimes smell like other dogs.

M:  Whatever!  And she keeps taking away my toys.

K:  I don’t take your toys away.  I put them in the toy tub (several times a day) after you take them all out and scatter them all over the living room—and then ignore them and I trip over them.  Plus I always let you take toys to bed at night. 

M:  She doesn’t give a guy any privacy to do his business.  I don’t understand why I have to be on leash (like at the shelter) when I need to potty since we have a big backyard.

K:  That’s only in the early morning when there might be skunks and other critters out there.  I don’t want you getting sprayed by a skunk.  And you’re free to go in the yard during the day with me, but you rarely go out there.  You spend your time lounging on the deck or lying in the garage instead of checking out the yard, chasing squirrels or “helping” me with yard work.

M: I had enough outside time in my previous life.  And why would I want to chase a squirrel?  I’m happy just watching, they’re funny the way they dart around.  And when I go out in the yard and find a tasty snack you yell and coming running at me.

K:  What the neighbor’s cat leaves in our yard is not a tasty treat.  It will make you sick and I’m tired of cleaning up your vomit on the carpet.  And speaking of, you’re supposed to chase the cats out of our yard.

M:  Why should I chase cats when they leave “cat candy” for me out there?

K: And I thought you had a reputation as a guard dog.  People come to the door with packages and you barely raise your head.  You never bark at people or even the little yappers next door.

M:  I am retired now.  And they’re leaving stuff, not taking stuff so what’s the problem? 

Barking is not for regal dogs like me.  I sing and only when I feel like it.  My voice gets plenty of use when I have to yell at you when you do things I don’t like, for example; coming home late, not serving meals on time, not getting out on a walk fast enough, not opening the door quick enough when I want to go in the house, not petting or hugging me enough, etc.  A guy has to make himself heard when it’s important and you’re not the easiest human to train—maybe because you’re so old. (But I have trained her that I’m unable to get in her truck unless there is jerky involved.  And I make her use a ramp for my convenience.  He-he-heeeee)

But, I don’t yell when she takes me to places where they poke and prod me and stick things in my ears and their fingers in my mouth and do other unspeakable indignities to me.  They always say how good I am, but I think they’re experimenting on me. 

K:  They’re not experimenting on you.  That’s the vet’s office and they’re checking to see if you’re doing okay and to try to guess your age. And they always say you’re the “Bestest Boy”….hah! If only they knew!

M:   I am the Bestest Boy but I’m not doing okay since you took my Nylabones and tennis balls away. And Milton the MAGNIFICENT is ageless.

K:  Sorry but with the shape your teeth are in, the vet said no more Nylabones or hard toys or tennis balls to chew on.  Do you want them to pull out your teeth?

M:  If they pulled my teeth maybe I’d get canned food instead of hard pebbles to eat.  And what about when you took me to that strange, scary place and abandoned me to have my toes chopped off!

K:  They were trimming your toenails NOT cutting your toes off and I was standing right outside the door in case you needed me.  And now you suckered all of them into joining your fan club.

M:  Well I am pretty adorable once you get to know me, just ask all my fans.

Okay folks, it’s almost nap time but I wanted you to know that even though this place is unlike where I lived before and there are some weird rules, I’m adjusting and think I will be happy here.  Mom and I have differing viewpoints on many things, but we working them out.  It took her long enough to come get me so there is no way I’m leaving here.  I plan on staying here forever since I really think she needs me.  Thank you guys for caring for me and spoiling me while I waited for her to come get me.  I’ll send further updates in the future, if you want.  Hope you enjoyed hearing from me. 

K: I think I figured out why he had been in the shelter so long….he was waiting for me.  It’s like we were meant to be together and a part of me feels my husband sent him to me.

My husband of 44 years had died and a few months later one of our 2 dogs followed him.  All that was left was me and our senior pitty and I wanted a companion for her. 

I saw Deng online when he was at Sammie’s and called about him but was told he didn’t like other animals so that was a no go.  We searched and searched (and even tried fostering very unsuccessfully) but couldn’t find a suitable dog for us.

Sometime in January I saw him online at Placer County (I’d forgotten he didn’t like other animals) and called to see how big he was.  They said he was 77 pounds which was bigger than I was looking for so another no go. 

Then in February our last dog died and I was left totally alone.  I saw he was still online in March and decided to just go see him.  I walked in and he gave me a look like “I’ve been waiting for you, what took you so long?”

 

That was pretty much all it took, but I had to think it over for a few days because he was bigger and younger than I wanted—and I’d tried other dogs with no success.  But there was just something about him.  So I went back and got him and here we are now, stuck with each other.

Someone once told me, “You don’t always get the dog you want, you get the dog you need.”  This is true with Milton.  I wanted an older, smaller, less furry dog but I believe he’s the one I needed.  I’m just hoping I’m the owner he needs. (I’m trying my hardest.)

Again I’m sorry this is so long.  I hope you enjoyed it and can share it with his fan club.  Yes, Milton and I adore each other (at least I adore him and I think the feeling is mutual) and plan to spend what we have left of our lives together.  Thanks for keeping him so long until I could get to him.

If you should ever see us (though we’re quite a distance away) feel free to say hello or wave.

M:  Forget the waving, stuff----throw treats….I NEED treats!  And good treats!!  None of those vegetable, so-called healthy things.

K:  Oh, Milton.