I’m tired of being tossed around like an old shoe.
I used to belong to a person who had 50 other dogs, so I didn’t get much attention or care.
Then I went to someone else who had a bunch of dogs.
Then I ended up with a nice woman who rescues all kinds of dogs. She already had nine, but couldn’t stand me being given to someone and not knowing how they would care for me. After a few weeks, she decided to contact rescue and here I am to start my new life.
I have always been called “Tiny” because, well, I’m tiny. I have been well fed as of late and I am up to 43 pounds. Some people say I am now square—my height, length and width are all the same!
I got to sit in Dr. Larsen’s lap and she said I was a good size for a lap. I have some huge skin tags, a UTI, some problems with my anal glands, and a few other things, but I’m sure we can get them all fixed very soon.
For a gal who has been moved more times than I can count in my six years, I am looking forward to just one more “forever” move. I can’t wait for that special someone to make me their forever special someone.
2/16/22 Update: Foster girl Tiny is recuperating after an eventful finding by Dr. Larsen. As doc was examining Tiny’s mouth, she discovered the dog had a cleft palate. Considering Tiny’s age it’s hard to believe she’s made it this far with that issue! Doc repaired that and did a tumor removal, so Tiny should be feeling great soon. Thank you for allowing us to care for her!
2/22/22 Update: All I wanted for Christmas was a Bulldog please. Check out this tongue out Tuesday shot from the Bulldog limo manufactured last century! Hey, I am an old guy.
This little girl demonstrates such potential. As a friendship offering, I fed her by hand at Puckett’s. On the drive home, she cozied up to me because the Bulldog Happy Hour fare that I brought was not fully consumed.
Tiny loved on me all the way home. She craves affection so much that she leaped onto my shoulder, even though restrained by her seat belt, and licked my face, neck, and ears. The Bulldog Limo sports manual transmission so when she jumped up on my right arm, I could not shift gears.
3/3/22 Update: T’is I, Miss Tiny, looking good lo I diminutively demur,
Recall that I previously issued two pre-emancipation proclamations; doubly excited described my emotional state. Mere days after my déménagement, I dig these new digs – little Bullie humor there. When I departed the Doc Shop, their sweetness quotient crashed.
My dogtor claimed that I needed to lose a few pounds, alluding to a “Butterball”. My new foster Dad joshes “Perrita-Gordita”, a Spanish pejorative portmanteau meaning that I am not bikini ready. Obviously, neither understands the feminine physique. My rolls merely store the excess honey and sugar that makes me so sweet.
Besides no rent or board fees, upon my arrival, the hospitality staff comped me to the upgraded food and beverage package. The culinary crew prepares my AM and PM meals of Fresh Pet chicken balls due to my recent palette surgery. They serve a warmed finishing sauce of broth, probiotic, pumpkin, and protein (meat, fish, or fowl) du jour decanted over the bowl. My status also includes admission to quotidian Bulldog Happy Hour but I cannot eat any hard food or stuff that would stick to the roof of my mouth like cheese, rice, or peanut butter.
The Bullie ladies in residence aver that the love, comfort, patience, respect, and stability of living here portends expectations for my future. I never knew that a Bullie’s life could border on the sublime. What excitement courses through my doggy veins. I had fantasized of LSBCR but thought it unachievable for a Bullie like I would ever attain such dreams.
My immediate goals include these, which will enamor me to my fur-ever family
Check out this photo of me napping on the resident queen’s bed in her Dad’s office. Am I a happy Bullie? Foster Dad and I bonded quickly so we seek similar relationships.
I will return, as MacArthur promised, just sayin’…
3/7/22 Update: Dear Bully family, My luck astounds me! Not only did I find LSBCR by serendipity, but I now thrive as a valued family member in my new foster home. All rodomontade aside, thanks to all y’all for leading me to such good fortune.
Allow me to apprise you of my progress. I consistently poop outside. I mark pee outside, but sometime pee on inside beds. To help, foster peeps bought a water resistant Kong bed for me. I neither like sleeping in pee nor on the hard floor so behavior modification looms. I want to please my foster peeps so stay tuned for pupdates.
In other news, foster dad slathers me with special attention. In the early morning (5 AM, huh) he escorts me onto the divan where we exchange love while the other Bullies sleep in.
Who knew I harbored ball playing talent in my genes? Foster dad and I play ball and I love this game. As the weather improves, I fantasize about becoming a right fielder or a doubles tennis player.
While easing into pack socialization with a docile old lady resident, I decided that I wanted her bed, even though more than a dozen other choices adorn this BBnB. My noisy out burst cause me a long time out in a crate. Although my apartment across from the doggy dormitory is a gated community, I cried a little in the crate. I now know the meaning of “NO”, especially when spoken “en haute voix”.
Don’t Stop Believing
3/22/22 Update: Yo all y’all,
Miss Tiny reporting. My two week silence hiatus owes to my dedication to improving my adoptability quotient. Let me brag on my progress.
I slack in my she shed on the right in tandem with Miss Chloe, a house mate, in hers. I confess to grousing at her once since I moved in but I am the new kid on the block, so everyone, “Notice me, notice me.” My acclimation to living in a secure and comfy home amazes me. Thank you LSBCR.
While new to living inside, let me say, “It ain’t hard to learn to live large when the peeps here shower me with such love. My foster parents rave about my improved elimination behavior. I want to please them.
Some scuttlebutt contends that I am an “only dog.” I do not believe it cuz I have been deprived of any chance to socialize, rather than compete. What is more, the resident queen here was adopted in 2015 as an “only dog.” Six plus years, and 40+ Bullie fosters and visitors later, who can doubt me?
My foster dad wakes me early so that we can do special love while the resident ladies sleep-in. We cuddle on the sofa, I lick his face, and we share bonding time. I like toys and learning to play ball fascinates me.
Do you want a Bullie such as I in your home? Who wouldn’t?
I await your contact and review your apps in the order they arrive. Ciao.
4/5/22 Update: Miss Tiny at the keyboard. Take a gander at my glamour photo. Who can resist this mug, I ask whimsically?
After a month’s residence Chez Maison Ménard BBnB, I have made some decisions. Chief amongst these, at least for the short term, I conclude that I should be the only fur family member until I reach equilibrium.
I say equilibrium because status quo changes over time. The resident queen here, adopted in 2015, arrived as an “only dog.” Six and one half years and 40+ visitors and fosters later, she welcomes all comers.
I have grouched at my fur sisters several times so Foster Dad isolates me with him. We do early morning love on the sofa and share special time in his office, “sans autre chiots.” Yesterday, he had to drive 35 minutes each away to retrieve a special diet for one of my foster fur sisters. Because I eat a special diet, I can relate.
He usually invites the resident queen for shot gun duty on trail rides, but the queen was too busy, basking in the warm sunshine in her throne chair. When Foster Dad asked me if I had time to accompany him, I leapt out of my she shed and into my harness in one swell coup.
My foster peeps cherish me so my harness connects to a seat belt. They treat me as a family member, which I am, and I love them for this loving care,
I get so excited when Foster Dad gives me special time. Ergo, I was jumping on him, licking his face, and interfering with shifting gears. As soon as I calmed down, my reward was constant stroking and affection. Yeah, more of that…
En route, Foster Dad played Saturday morning classical concerts on the radio. Wow, Debussy, Chopin, Mozart, and my favorite, Johann Strauss the younger’s Blue Danube Waltz.
I wanted to lace up my skates and bust out in a pirouette. Alas, try though we might, no frozen pond could we find.
5/12/22 Update: Yo, Miss Tiny here and I feel frolicsome and frisky.
Foster peeps know that I should live in a fur-free environment, so they took me outside for the great weather and my spirit spilled out. Foster Dad wanted me to play ball, but I needed some spring training practice.
I have not yet learned about taking two and hitting to right or pegging to the cutoff man, but I know how to hold the ball to freeze the runner. Given the miserable record of the Texas Rangers this season, I could teach them a few things about fielding grounders.
Have you noticed how I execute my doggie duties with effortless nonchalance? You may call this talent. “Je ne sais quoi,” but I call it my “sprezzatura.” Who is with me?
But my abundant talents exceed athletics. I enjoy helping my foster mom plant her flowers. I love Foster Mom and her attention she gives me. But Foster Dad tends to me most of the time because he works at home.
While I grow in family esteem, my appeal to adoptive families increases. My foster peeps will forward your apps to me since I make final decisions.
TTFN, Ciao, Auf Wiedersehen, Adieu, and all that jazz.
5/20/22 Update: Miss Tiny proudly promoting progress. Most importantly, my improvement prepares me to graduate from rescue to my furever home, free of other fur inhabitants.
Everyone with Lone Star Bulldog Club Rescue has contributed to my rehabilitative sojourn, from neglected chattel to treasured family member. Thanks, all y’all, for bringing such happiness into my life.
Allow me brag on my achievements. I eat Fresh Pet, a refrigerated food of chicken balls and vegetables, but Foster Dad (FD) warms a finishing sauce for my twice daily meals, and even for Bulldog Happy Hour at noon. I cannot eat cheese, peanut butter, even sliced cold cuts or stuff that might stick to my bony palate. Since my alimentary ills have abated, FD sneaks me some snacks, like a few half inch cubes of pastry at Bulldog Happy Hour.
My dogtor recommended Metamucil, which improved my potty behavior, but that regime has lapsed. Most days and nights, I pee and poop outside. However, I favor marking my overnight bedding, probably because I never had an inside bed before Lone Star Bulldog Club Rescue. FD says that behavior will likely fade over time, once I realize that the bad ol’ days have receded to vague memories.
FD gives me special alone time every day, which boosts my Bulldog buoys. Life here exceeds anything I could have imagined, but I want to reciprocate that in my furever home.
Now for the photography news. I would never bark aloud that FD has flaws, but he thinks that “camera” is an Italian word that means “a room”~ as in “una camera nel casa.” If I must choose between food and photography, who wants pictures in the meal bowl, just sayin’…
To compensate for FD’s photo-phobia, the Lone Star Bulldog Club Rescue’s Council of Elders has arranged for a photo shoot, right here on the estate grounds of Chez Maison Ménard BBnB. A volunteer crew will visit, complete with props in tow, and shoot still and video recordings, including glamour shots. To put my best paw forward, I’ll visit a renown spa for a pedi-pedi and beauty treatment. As the Pointer Sisters once sang, “I’m so excited.”
Stay tuned for details. Meanwhile, back at this BBnB, I will be scrutinizing your applications.
6/13/22 Update: Many of you know that I seek a fur-free home. Meanwhile, back at this BBnB, I continue to live large.
Foster Dad (FD) keeps me isolated from the vintage ladies populating this rest home and dotes on me in early mornings and before dinner. I often share alone time with FD in his office in the afternoon. Unfortunately, he cannot bestow all the love that I crave. Ergo, my longing for my own special family who wants to love only me. My temperament may morph over time, but for now, the one-and-only status paves my path.
My dogtor prescribed Metamucil to firm up my stool so on the rare times I poop on my apartment’s tarpaulin, cleanup work comes easy. My foster peeps glow with pride in my progress as I now rarely mess the premises. They say that I have made great progress for an erstwhile neglected Bulldog, but all I know tells me I am a lucky pup.
Now for the big news. A photog crew visited this BBnB and featured me in many poses. I am in process of reviewing my glamour shots so I’ll share more ooh-and-aah pix in the future.
My foster peeps head to the East Coast next week, but I struck the luck of staying at this BBnB. A sitter will stay with us so that we Bulldogs suffer no relocation stress. My foster peeps brag of eating their way through the New England shore, but I am thrilled to observe my usual routine.
I long to romp, play, love, kiss my family members, and revel in my deserved future. As I advance in citizenship qualities, the more my adoption quotient grows.
7/1/22 Update: Miss Tiny here dictating reportage to my Chez Maison Ménard BBnB sitter. This young lady speaks Bullie and types on a keyboard, so she is my temporary new best friend.
My foster peeps flew off two weeks ago for overnight temps in the high 40s, daytime highs in the 70s, and seafood at every meal. Yo, why not take me with you? I love cool temps and might savor that seafood thing! No matter, my bipeds welcomed and embraced me upon their return.
We Bullie ladies live large at this venue. I stayed in my apartment instead of schlepping off to parts unknown. We enjoyed the familiarity of setting, continuation of meals (including BHH), and creature comforts to which we have become accustomed.
Having passed the crucial three-month threshold, I thrill to the future possibilities. For so many years, my routine reeked of neglect and null self-esteem. I was just a dog, one of about 50. Now, I have graduated to full family member status. Love, respect, and appreciation all still stir my soul and excite my heart.
Foster Dad wakes me about 5 AM, before the vintage Bullie ladies rise, and we share special time together. Before sunrise this morning, he took me out off leash into the backyard. He commented on my progress since my February move-in and let me tell you that I am one proud puppy.
My dream is for a fur-ever family that will make me their palace queen. Given my history, I am not fur friendly, but my peeps advise that I may morph when I experience fur-ever love.
I do so cherish special time and want to share this bursting fountain of affection with my adoptive family. As Blondie sang in the 1970s, “Call Me”. Love, Miss Tiny
7/14/22 Update: My foster peeps credit me for a steep citizenship climb, but I redirect props to the dedicated volunteers at Lone Star Bulldog Club Rescue.
Foster Dad now lets me off leash outside and INSIDE! Wow, I mingle with my fellow Bulldogs, and they largely ignore me. No offense taken, because in my former life, I needed to compete with 50 other dogs to survive but my “’tude” has toned down.
I did get grouchy once recently with fur sister Miss Akina because she hogged the bed I coveted. We have almost as many beds at this BBnB as 7-Elevens in DFW, but I digress…
Last week, three of my fur sisters went to the day spa, so by serendipity, I enjoyed a full day’s attention with Foster Dad. He hand-fed me treats during Bulldog Happy Hour, stroked me, and professed his love. Zowie, happy girl defines my mindset.
I was so delighted to help Foster Dad that I offered to help him poop in tandem outside with me. Here I am proffering facial tissue (why do you bipeds call butt wipes “facial tissue?” just askin…) He demurred, but my thoughtful suggestion distinguished me as a deserving family member.
When you potential adopters decide on a loving addition to your home, hopefully you’ll take Blondie’s advice, and “Call Me.” Richard Marx also opined, “I’ll Be Right Here Waiting for You.”
8/15/22 Update: Morning everyone, Tiny Tater checking in today! Before you ask, YES this is my Monday face! Actually, it’s my everyday face! Today is Spa day for me and this is the day I hate the most. Getting scrubbed from head to toe and getting my nails trimmed is just not my kind of fun. Matter of fact I can get pretty upset. I can get upset sometime when someone wants to pick me up. The way I see it is if I needed to be off the ground I would have been born with wings.
Today I had a heart-to-heart talk with my foster Mom so she would know how much I want a forever family. I have been in rescue 8 months and not one person has asked about me. My life before rescue was pretty bad. I lived with about 50 other dogs in a hoarding situation. Not much attention there, and I was just part of the chaos.
My foster Mom tells me every day that there is a family for every bulldog. But I am beginning to wonder. My perfect family will not have any other dogs. I want all the attention. I can weave in and out of your legs with ease. And I love for you to play with me. But I can also get upset if you want to open my mouth if I have your shoe. I mark every bed in the house. Mine or not, I see a bed, I mark a bed. So, a waterproof something is best for me.
I do have some special needs. I need an adult only home. I don’t want to ride around in your purse even though I am Tiny. I don’t want my feet off the ground. I need someone to just love me. I don’t want my life to be lived in rescue, I want my life to be lived with a family who understands the first years of my life were traumatic. Even I desire and deserve a ‘happy ever after” adoption pic.
8/20/22 Update: Week One Of Homeschool! Homeschool started and I was a mess. I could not see the chalk board and it was discovered I could not see. So, I now wear glasses. Recess was Hot and it called for me to put on my new hat! My new Vera Bradley lunch box was not the pattern I wanted so I refused to carry it. So foster mom said next week I would be carrying a brown paper sack.
There was some confusion about “personal space” and this week I nipped a big toe on foster mom’s foot. It was an accident. And it was before I got my glasses. I can clearly see a toe now and will not mistake it for a dog treat again! What happened is I only eat soft food and Fresh Pet is my favorite. For some reason, some kibble ended up close to me and I was like a maniac trying to get to it before it got scooped up and taken away from me. In the excitement of me scooping up kibble with my front teeth a big toe got in the way. Needless to say, the Home-Schooling lady made me sit in the corner.
I will take a corner anytime if it means I can have some kibble. Expecting big things to happen in week #2 of Home School. Hoping next week finds me a forever family, but if not I will be reporting on Friday how the week went! Love Tiny Tater.
8/31/22 Update: it was week #2 of home school and it was picture week. Everyone in class dressed up for pictures and I thought my fancy tutu and new hat would be perfect!
You should have heard the whistles when I walked down the hall. It was at that very moment I looked down and saw I had forgotten to put on a top.
I felt so embarrassed, but nothing was going to stop me from having my picture taken for the Home School Herald.
I am hoping this week brings me a family because next week, we have to try out for a sport. I have never been much of an outdoorsy kind of lady, and I am afraid no one will choose me for their team.
My only other option is trying out for cheerleading and that will require me to jump, twirl and flip… and I am afraid I might flop.
So, I really hope I get matched to an approved applicant this week. I really would rather go to a football game and not have to cheer for one!
9/6/22 Update: It’s week #3 of my homeschool report and this was a rough week.
This week, everyone had to try out for a sport. I chose soccer because I can run like the wind. The coach said I was amazing, and I made the soccer team.
My position is center forward. I would have been happy being the team manager (and not actually playing), but that option was not available. It seems the team manager from last year is the team manager again this year. Smells fishy to me. I really wanted to cause a ruckus, but because I’m the new one on the team, I decided to just abide by the decision.
But I tell you what… next week is homecoming and I better not get my legs all skinned up from getting run over playing soccer. I intend to be the homecoming queen and this Tiny Tater must look like perfection. I can already see myself riding on a homecoming float, wearing a sash and crown, while waving to the crowd.
Hope I can find a furever family this week, but if not, that’s OK … because next week, when I am wearing my crown, it will be epic!
9/9/22 Update: It’s week #4 of homeschooling and this was a great week!
Soccer is going great. My team won every game and I was recognized as the most valuable player!
The cheerleaders came out and asked me if they could take photos with me for the yearbook. Almost every player on the soccer team is mad at me now. They’re just jealous of my skills and all the attention I’ve been getting. And you know what? I don’t care one bit! I have dealt with jealous people all my life, mainly because of my beauty, but I’ve got the skills now too.
I have my sights set on going to the World Cup and taking my game to “a whole ‘nother level!” My dream is playing for Team USA and with hard work, I will get there.
Tonight, they crown the Homecoming Queen, and I’m sure nervous. I have my outfit picked out and it matches the crown that already fits my head perfectly. Fingers crossed!
9/19/22 Update: Picture it… the people at the football game were chanting, “Tiny, Tiny, Tiny” and when they announced my name as Homecoming Queen, it took my breath away! Me … a class favorite! Well, really, I’m not surprised because it seems that everywhere I go, people stop and stare at me.
There was a huge parade and I rode on the shoulders of some football players. I had never been lifted that high and I got a little nervous. I prefer my feet planted firmly on the ground. It was raining the night of homecoming and I didn’t get any pics of me in the parade. That made me mad, but who can control the weather?
Well, next week is the end of the first six weeks of school and I’m hoping my report card is good. A couple classes have me scared. Sometimes, the teachers and I don’t see things eye-to-eye. One says I talk too much. I say she needs to give me time in the morning to catch up with my friends before expecting me to start working. I’m going to take her an apple on Monday to see if I can get on her good side before the grades go out. Wish me luck!
9/23/22 Update: What a week, rescue friends! I perfected my roller skating moves and I was spot on when it came time to dance, skate and move to the music. Did you see me on Facebook raising money for rescue? My partner was Mando. He had a really hard time keeping up with me. I should have had a solo. Yes, I was that good, but no…. I had to share the spotlight with him. He better learn some skating moves if he wants to be my partner again.
Today, I’m taking it easy with my class work because I am exhausted. Next week, report cards come out and let’s hope my homeschool teachers see things my way. I have been taking them apples every day. This coming week, I’ll add a pumpkin treat to the apple. I sure hope they love pumpkin. And if they don’t, that’s OK. There will be more pumpkin treats for me. I love them!
10/1/22 Update: It’s week seven of homeschool. Just as I expected: the teacher and I don’t see eye-to-eye.
Even after I made captain of the soccer team, was crowned homecoming queen and spent all my allowance on apples for her, she still gave me bad grades. To say I’m mad is an understatement.
And guess who got the good grades? You guessed it … the suck-ups! The ones who tell the teacher she’s so pretty and she has beautiful hair. The ones who clean the chalkboard every day and carry her book bags. The ones who wear matching outfits and those big bows in their hair. The ones whose moms are the classroom “party planners.” The ones who say, “Please” and “Thank you.”
But I will take my Fs! In my mind, that means fabulous. I don’t cry for a bandage when I fall down. I don’t drink from a sippy cup to keep my clothes clean. And I can bait my own fishhook! I am Tiny… hear me roar!
