Welcome home, Buddy!

Nota Bene: At no time in this blog am I implying that his breeder did anything wrong with Val/Valen/Buddy. He was not abused in any way, shape, or form. Looking at his history, he was a happy, loved, and well-cared-for dog who was simply removed from his safe environment when he was an adult. That can be VERY scary for any dog. Something spooked him when the inciting incident occurred. What it was, we will never know--dogs don't perceive things the same way that people do. I am only sharing his story because I'm so very proud of how he has progressed. The breeder is to be commended for a program that produced such a resilient dog.

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This story has been a long time in the making. It started over to a year ago, in August 2024, when I saw two photos of an absolutely magnificent two-year-old chocolate tricolor Toy Fox Terrier named "Val." Val was for sale at a price that was ordinarily out of my price range--but I had just received a generous gift from a friend that amounted to exactly my share of his sale price. While it seemed to be A Sign, I pondered the potential purchase, seriously weighing a new--and male--dog against the value of a new hot water heater: Val, hot water. Hot water, Val. I talked about the dilemma with Kathleen, with predictable results (never talk to Kathleen about buying a dog. She's an enabler).

To be fair, this was not entirely an impulse buy. Both Kathleen and I have been "in" Toy Fox Terriers for many years. While we've always stuck to the original registry's accepted colors (white, black, and tan tricolor and white and tan), we'd both wanted a chocolate TFT for years. He had a pedigree to die for. Although his coefficient of inbreeding (COI) was high at 15 percent, he was mostly an outcross to our dogs, so that percentage would come down in future generations. He was also a very nice TFT, with good conformation and expression. I eventually bowed to the inevitable. We agreed that I would provide the money and she would provide Val with a home. Although she's not fond of having male dogs in the house, she has the bulk of the females, including those to whom we would be breeding him. Val would stay there for around a year while she finished his champion title/degree*, or up until the time that I could explain his presence at the cottage to Dan, at which time he could start agility or obedience with me. All we had to do was pick up the dog, which we were eager to do as soon as possible.

It turned out that the same breeder also had a dog that belonged to a mutual friend of ours, who had leased the female to him for one litter. Kathleen and I arranged for Jeanette to accompany us to pick up Val. Jeanette lived only a short drive from Kathleen and there was no reason for her to make a separate trip to the same place, a couple of hundred miles away. On the appointed day, we all met in Oupelousas, Louisiana to pick up our respective dogs. I will say this: technically, I didn't have to be there. Val was going to Texas with Kathleen, along with Peaches, who was going to Texas with Jeanette. I was just there due to the "I'm dying with excitement" factor. I wasn't prepared for the actual excitement that came with picking him up. Lots and lots of excitement.

Once the tour of the breeder's place was over and the dogs and humans were returned to the hotel, we made plans for dinner. One of the three of us let the dogs out in the hotel bathroom to use the facilities before we left. It's something that we've done as a routine many times. We lay down puppy pads, block the entrance with a baby gate or ex-pen panel, and allow the dogs out to stretch their legs, drink water, and potty. The dogs are then returned to their individual crates when we go out to eat. Until that one time, it's never gone south on us. With dogs, however, there's always that first time lurking in the distance. This lurker had Val's name written all over it. Looking back, I know that we should have had a leash on Buddy, given that he was a bit skittish and confused, but we didn't. Live and learn.

He and Peaches managed to get past the ex-pen panels and into the room. We allowed them some time to decompress, feeding them a snack and allowing them to explore. After all, they'd already pottied. What harm could there be in a few minutes of freedom? What indeed . . . ! Peaches caused us no issue when it came time to return them to their crates. He was another matter. He ran from each of us in turn, hiding under the beds, dashing over the beds, literally bouncing off walls. When he paused to take a breath, Kathleen spoke reassuringly to him and attempted to pick him up. It was a horrible mistake, because he bit her. Hard. The bite left a large puncture wound near a finger joint, which by itself is not a lot of fun. He took off again and squared himself up firmly under one of the beds, threatening anyone who came near him. No coaxing, no food treats were going to get him out. It was almost an hour before he emerged, whereupon a bed sheet was tossed over him like a net, allowing us to wrestle him back into his carrier.

After much discussion, it was decided that we'd go with the original plan. Val wasn't a mean dog. We'd seen that at the breeder's house. We had pictures of him in his yard, happy and d0g-smiling. We'd seen him being cuddled by his owner. He'd bitten out of fear, not anger. Kathleen's hand wouldn't need stitches. It was worth a try. In any case, Kathleen and I were going to meet up in Monroe again in a couple of months, so if it didn't work out with them, he could come live with me. I'm the "keeper of the males," anyway. One more wasn't going to be [much of] a strain. We all returned to our separate corners in the morning, praying for the best.

Thus ensued several months of trying to get Val to do anything other than sit at the back of his crate, eating, sleeping, pooping, and growling at the other dogs. The effort was not a success, even though Val never seemed inclined to bite again. He needed a special area for his crate, because being crated next to another dog was stressful. He needed a larger crate than the other dogs, because he was living in it, rather than eating or sleeping in it. Crate cleaning was a tense ordeal, consisting primarily of replacing soiled bedding after a cursory clean-up. It wasn't a good experience for anyone involved. It was obvious that Val wanted to be a good boy, much like the puppy in the above photo wanted to be a good boy, but he just didn't know how to move past his fear. Much discussion ensued over what would be the next "right move."

In November 2024, Val came to live with me. I set up his larger crate on top of the puppy pen, giving him lots of space to breathe. I gave him a stuffed dog for company, since he had no dog with which he could snuggle. For better or for worse, he was home. I started calling him "Valen," hoping that the name change would help. Perhaps it was too similar, because he trudged on as usual. Our first breakthrough came in December, when Valen took a bit of cheese from my hand. Seeing my excitement, you would have thought he'd spoken his first words! After that, he started coming toward me when I opened his crate to feed him or to give him water. Once he started approaching me, I touched his head for the first time. I was nearly in tears because he didn't growl or run away.

I wish I could say that the successes came thick and fast after that. They didn't. But every day that he didn't retreat was a good day. Slowly but surely, I was able to pet him on his head, then down his neck, then his back. I eventually ran my hands down his legs and, finally, under his stomach. When the day arrived that I could lift his paws a quarter inch off the floor of his crate, I him ready to leave his crate--a tale which deserves a blog of its own. It was shortly afterward that I gave him his final name change, to a name that completely broke ties with his past. It might sound silly, but sometimes a dog who is working through fear actually benefits from this kind of "clean slate."

Eventually, I'll link to that blog and to others that tell of his adventures in healing. It's an interesting journey that I think might give hope to people who have fear-biting or just fearful dogs. Buddy isn't completely ready to go out into the world yet, but his progress has been steady. We've cut toenails, carried him outside. I've had him in my lap. He goes into the exercise pens and even into the training ring. He hasn't been for a walk with me yet, as I want to be that he'll come to me when called, but he's put his paws on some agility equipment and deemed it interesting. Once he has a good "recall," I will start him on training walks and Rally exercises. Buddy has a good future ahead of him, with lots of interesting adventures yet to come.

Is there a particular part of Buddy's journey that you'd like to hear about? If you have any specific questions, just drop me a note in the comments and let me know.

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AKC calls a dog winning a championship a "title." UKC calls the championship a "degree." Essentially, because UKC had its start as a working and hunting dog registry, the conformation championship is "earned" rather than "won," demonstrating the dog's worthiness to be bred and to continue through additional competition.

Here is a link to the Russian Kynological Federation standard for the Toy Fox Terrier. The translation isn't terrific--"tricolor" is translated as "trichromatic," for example--but it shows that they used the AKC standard instead of the UKC (originating registry) standard as a pattern. In this particular case, it allowed for chocolate to be an accepted color, among other divergence from the original breed standard.

Another link to COI information, from the Kennel Club (UK).

• Just a note about AKC leases: These leases are good, as far as they go. For a person who does dual registration, as I do, a litter from a leased dog can be a little problematic, as the second registry (in my case, UKC), doesn't recognize the leaser's ownership of the dog or litter. However, strictly speaking from an AKC-centric position, a lease allows a breeder to pay a certain sum to have access to a female for a limited period, usually about a year, to produce a litter of puppies before returning the dog to the original owner or breeder. It's a wonderful arrangement for a breeder who doesn't have a lot of room. It's an alternative to adding a permanent occupant to produce an outcross litter or to jumpstart a breeding program. It can also allow a person to be added temporarily to the ownership of a dog, allowing the leaser to have his or her name added to the litter as a breeder of record. As with anything dog related, it requires a high degree of trust from both parties involved. I leased one dog one time and she produced one puppy. It was a good arrangement for all of us, but I don't think I'd do it again.