I got Benji by accident. A friend of my sister's found him at the dog pound in Kingman, where he was literally the next dog who was going to be put down. She thought he was cute so she adopted him and ended up not liking him. She pawned him off on my sister, who didn't really like him either, plus he didn't get along with her other dog. One day my sister went to a barbecue at her friend's house (just down the road from my mom's house) and she took both Benji and her other dog. Well, during the party Benji disappeared, and my sister figured he just ran off.
A few nights later, Benji walked out of my sister's friend's bedroom closet. Apparently he'd gotten scared of her dogs (she had 3 dachshunds) and had hidden in her closet for like two days without making a sound. (He really is the most pathetic little creature). It was the summer of 2007 and I was home from Flagstaff and staying with my mom, so after my sister heard from her friend, my sister called me and asked me if I could go pick up Benji since I was closer. So I drove over and picked him up. He was just this tiny little thing and next to the dachshunds he looked really sad, but he barked with them when I came in. I scooped him up and he cuddled right into me. I took him back to my mom's house and he slept on my pillow.
My sister really didn't want him back. She asked me to keep him for a few days, and then for the rest of the summer, and then . . . well, at some point it became clear that I would not be giving Benji back to her. And that was fine by me because he was definitely my dog. I got him on 07-07-07--my dad's birthday.
He attached to me very quickly. For the first few weeks I had him he didn't let me out of his sight; he sat right next to me wherever I was and followed me wherever I went. I gave him a bath and cleaned off his eys (he gets AWFUL tear staining). Benji only weighed 3.5 pounds when I got him, because his previous owners starved him. He hated (and still hates) loud noises because they also abused him. He doesn't like big dogs unless they're girls, and even then it's iffy; we think that his old owners must have had big dogs who weren't very nice to him.
I went back to Flag for my last semester of college and moved into my studio apartment--it was the first time I'd lived alone, plus it was when the bipolar symptoms really started, and if I hadn't had Benji I'd have gone crazy. He would dance when I got home from school every day, it was so cute! At night, I'd say, "Time for bed!" and he'd run and jump into the bed. He always slept by my knees, and when Jerbs moved in, he'd sleep between us. He'd always sit next to me on the couch and once he got his head stuck in a Sonic fry container. He used to take himself to the bathroom. I'd open the front door, tell him to go potty, and he'd run down the stairs, pee, and run back up. It was so awesome. He used to go everywhere with me and he'd jump into the car by himself. I'd just open the driver side door and he'd jump in and climb over to the passenger seat. He'd get so excited when I asked him if he wanted to go for a ride or I told him it was time to go get Jenny at work. He knew which car was ours and for a while after the Honda was totaled, there was one that looked like it in the parking lot of our complex, and he'd always go over to it when we took him outside . . . it was sad.
He's not really housebroken anymore. His hips are too bad for him to jump up on anything now and it's kinda sad. The most I've ever gotten him to weigh is 6.5 pounds. His hair doesn't grow correctly because he spent so much time malnourished, so he's always puppy cut and gets tangles easily. He walks around the apartment but we don't go on walks anymore because he's just getting old. I think he's about 8 now. We think he's totally blind in one eye and mostly blind in the other and he seems to be getting hard of hearing. His teeth are completely rotted (they were when I got him though) and he's very bony to touch. He smells horrible no matter how many baths I give him.
But I absolutely love him and I pray that he has a good amount of time left because I don't know what I'll do when he dies. He is my little buddy and in the five years I've had him he's made me smile a lot. I think he was supposed to be my dog. He's not playful or active but I don't care--if he wants to sleep 20 hours a day he can. I just want him to be happy and comfortable because I think he spent a lot of time suffering before I had him so he deserves it.
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