Day 4-5: General Beauregard

General Beauregard...that's my dog's name., although he likes to be called "The General" by his friends. We found him about a year and a half ago at my work. The surveyor's had been feeding him for about a week, so i decided to take him home. Me and Misty were so excited, because we had been talking about getting a dog, and it was our first really big decision/step in our marriage. We both knew (or thought we did) how much of a responsibility it would be, and were excited to take the step together.

The day i took him home, I actually took him to Misty's parents house because it was lunch-time, and i had to finish the day. Misty's brother, Josh, was there and said he was happy to watch him. I got a call about an hour later from Josh. He said that the dog (didn't have a name at the time) had been barking since i left, and could not be contained. We had decided to keep him in the bathroom, just in case he had an accident. We both decided it would be better to put something in front of the bathroom door, instead of closing him in; just in case he tried to scratch at the door. We stacked boxes in front of the door, up to above our heads, and reinforced them with a dresser-drawer. In spite of our best efforts, the dog would go into some sort of hyper-frenzied fit, jumping, climbing and barking, until he escaped his prison; it was as if his life depended on it.

The next 3 days were a blur...We took him home, and prepared a bed for him in the laundry room. He would bark for 45 minutes before he finally went to bed. Misty and I would be terrified to get up and go to the bathroom, because we thought we would wake him for another 45 minute fit. When we tried to walk him, and he would start running as fast as he could round and round on the end of his leash. There was no calming him down, so all you could do was to spin with him till he wore himself out. After 3 days Misty had had enough, and told me it wasn't working out. I secretly still had hope; but at this point, it was the dog or me, and i gladly sacrificed the dog. I took him back to my work. I suspected that he had been abandoned, but i was going to try and let him walk around to see if he might lead me to his home. Sure enough, we walked right to a back yard, not 50 feet from the back door of my work! I was pumped; we found his home, his owners were probably worried to death...all was right with the world.

I knocked on the door...feeling a little proud for all the kindness we had shown to this dog. He was running free around Powder Springs, and we saved him from being killed, or worse (i don't know what is worse...saw it on a movie). When the door opened, i prepared myself for "Aw, it was nothing, I'm just glad he is OK...money, no i can't take it (just take this Satan dog from me and we will call it even)". I saw recognition in the young man's eye...I said, "is this your dog"? He replied in broken English (he was Hispanic), "yes, but we don't want him no more". My excitement turned to dissapointment, which turned to anger. How could someone let their dog out the door and just forget him? I understood why (after only 3 days), but at least they could've taken him to the pound! I returned dejected to the house, dog in hand. My wife was amazed at the story, and we decided to keep him until we could find him a home.

Now, a year and a half later, he has come a long way. He still has more energy than the average dog, and when we have company, he gets excited, jumps, etc. But compared to when we found him, he is a pretty good ole dog. Whenever Me and Misty think about our first years of marraige, we definitly think of the discovery, adoption, and redemption of General Beauregard.