A few weeks ago I mentioned a new addition to my cozy existence. My wife and I have adopted a little 5 year-old wiener dog from a rescue shelter named Brisco. The details of Mr. B.J. Brisco’s past are a bit sketchy (he is a dog of mystery) but it seems he had a bit of a tough run until he found his way into our abode. He seems to be a happy somewhat well trained pup although I think he has some understandable abandonment issues and does not like when we leave.
I am not really that keen on the name Brisco but he responds well to it so it would be tough to change at this point in his life. I keep trying to think of similar sounding names but B. Disco, Brisk Show or Bitch Ho do not seem any better. Well Bitch Ho would be fun but he is a boy so sadly if you see me walking the streets yelling ‘Bitch Ho’ at the top of my lungs it will not be because my dog is missing. I tend to call him Brisket more often then not. My wife has started calling him BJ to continue her MASH derived animal names theme she started a long time ago. We currently have a Max, Radar, Zelmo, Francis and Sparky (not to mention a couple of fish named Potter and Margaret that passed through the porcelain pearly gates into fishy heaven.)
I wonder what Brisco’s original owner had in mind when he named him. Was he a fan of sci-fi westerns and based it on Brisco County Jr.? I would be proud to have a dog named after B-movie actor Bruce Campbell. I guess he could be named after either of the Brisco Brother wrestling teams (Jack and Gerald or Jay and Mark). Why I know there have been two different Brisco Brother wrestling teams is most certainly fodder for a future blog. There is a Briscoe County Texas about 300 miles west of me but my wife just reminded me he has a brother named Max and I do not believe there is a Max county. There is a sunken Navy ship named the USS Briscoe but knowing his aversion to water I do not think that was the inspiration.
He is slowly adjusting to life with two doting people, 3 fish and two cats that outweigh him by several pounds. This seems to be a bit of an improvement from his last home where he spent about a month with several dogs, horses and other various beasts that might be found on a farm. He is a bit too much of a fastidious loner to have survived comfortably in that atmosphere.
He spent his first 2 weeks here on antibiotics for a nasty abscess on his nose from an infected scratch he had when we got him. Adjusting to a new home is hard enough without having to wear a cone on your head. He often walked around with the same overwhelmed expression you might see on a recently transferred to a new school seventh grader with no eyebrows and third nostril. He still seems afraid to get too comfortable, apparently he was shuttled around a bit before we got him so he seems to have a few abandonment issues, much as a no eyebrow three nostriled 7th grader might have.
His snout is doing much better but I still worry about him. But then again that is what I do. I obsess and worry. I can’t help it I am a paranoid person. Paranoid in a get to the airport too early, triple check that the front door is locked every night, leave the TV on in the hotel room so it seems occupied, and separate my money into different pockets in case I get mugged sort of way. Any day now I am sure I will go with a belt and suspenders just in case. It does not make it easier that my wife is just as paranoid herself. Typically we both obsess over different things but sometimes there is a bit of an overlap and our new dachshund buddy seems to be one of those things that turns us both into walking freakshows.
Our current fear stems from a recent conversation with one of our neighbors a few doors down. The big Navy veteran almost cried as he told us about his old dog that recently had quickly got very sick and died. He thought it might have been from a poisonous spider bite he got in the backyard (and my wife wonders why I do not want to have a picnic in the yard… what is it that woman love so much about picnics? I am all for eating outside at a restaurant but I do not find it at all romantic to sit and eat food on the hard ground with only a small blanket between me and a zillion creepy crawlies). We noticed yesterday that Brisco is not jumping much and his back paw is a little swollen, so in response to our fear that he was/will be attacked by the same pack of murdering spiders from up the street, we have treated the lawn with a variety of giant Texas-sized killer spider removers.
My wife and I will not be able to relax until we know he is OK so tomorrow morning it is off to the vet again. I have a hunch this will not be the last trip. I wonder if they have a multi-visit discount rate for paranoid people.