A Rough Start For A Cooter: Part 1

The Survival of a Dumpster Fire.

The Dumpster Fire I am referencing in the subtitle would be, you guessed it, my life. And the picture above and everywhere is of my soul dog. I wrote about “NHH’s” (Non-Horse Husband) soul dog last week. I felt it only fair that I write about my perfect guy. Cooter Brown. Yes, that really was his name. You thought you were getting some insane story about my “Cooter”, didn’t you? Yeah, well. Just keep reading my blog posts. I’m sure there will be an actual “My Cooter” story. I will try to keep it down to under 300 pages. He was my soul dog, after all, and I need you to know every insignificant detail.

The best place to start is the beginning, of course. Cooter was rescued by a woman that I worked carriage horses with in Texas. It was Cooter, his parents, and 6 of his siblings. In the area we were in, stray dogs were so common we had to be aware of packs that ended went wild and were attacking people, small dogs, and some were going after horses. Heading home with the carriage horses, one night, something caught her eye. Let me set the scene for you: It was a beautiful area right on the gulf. But what people don’t know is that most area’s within close proximity to any beach can be...for lack of a better word, ghetto. With a capital G. So out of that corner of her eye, she saw 2 kids around the age of 10 and 12 with 2 adult dogs, and a bunch of teeny tiny puppies moving around.

Something didn’t sit right with her, so she sat at that red light and watched, Let me just say, that woman was insane! In a good way, I promise. She was the definition of “F&$k Around and Find Out”! I love her, still, for it. What she saw was those kids tying rope and rocks to the puppies, and dropping them in a bucket!! She jumped out of that truck so fast, I thought the door came off, screaming profanities even I don’t use, at the 2 kids, and banging on the door to that house like a cop. I would rather have had a cop knocking on my door. She is scary. A woman answered, and they went back and forth for about ten seconds, before “B.B” (lets call her Batshit Blonde) jumps off the porch, and what looked like one swoop of her arm, all the while still running at a full sprint, had the 2 adult dogs, the puppies on the ground, as well as the puppy that was in the bucket, in her arms and was sprinting at the truck, screaming profanities behind her the entire way.

Some more of the old "Picture this" : Blond crazy woman running full sprint back to the truck, screaming really bad words over her shoulder, while carrying 9 emaciated dogs, covered in their own shit. One of those 9 dogs was, what I thought, most likely dead. I had already slid my butt into the drivers seat. I knew we would be making a quick getaway because, simply put, this wasn’t our first rodeo. She jumps into the truck, yelling “Go!! Get the hell out of here!!” Like we just robbed a bank… I had a horse trailer attached with 2 horses. “Get the hell out of here” wasn’t exactly an obtainable outcome. But I pulled away, as “B.B." tosses all of the living dogs in the backseat, and proceeds to give that limp, wet, most likely dead, puppy C.P,R. Yeah. I am not making this shit up. I kept saying “You have to stop. The puppy is gone”. Well..... I was wrong. Go Ahead and make a note, put it your calenderer, shout if from a bullhorn. Wrong is not something I EVER am. That tiny puppy, that fit in the palm of your hand, started coughing, and crying. He was alive! Her reaction to saving a life was to say “Poor guy. He looks drunker than Cooter Brown”. Can you guess who that little puppy was? That is right, I didn’t know it then, but that drowned puppy ended being my Soul Dog for the next 13 years. Cooter Brown.

Things calmed down, and she tells me what that disgusting woman said to her. Now that I know, and your about to, I will call that waste of human trash every dirty name in the book… Then beat her purple with that book. B.B.-“do you know your kids are drowning puppies?!?!” Human Waste- “Yes, we told them to. Those dogs showed up and had puppies under my porch. I want them gone”. What the Fuck? Yeah I said the F word this time. I think it is a fitting "WTF" moment. Who tells their kids to murder dogs?!? That’s when B.B. jumped off of the porch like some scene out of ESPN. We covered what came after that impressive jump.

I did not take Cooter home that night. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind, to take on a puppy. She took them all home. Cleaned them up, and went to the vet. Unfortunately, Momma dog was in bad shape. A tumor in her spine causing paralysis. Along with many other things going on. She had to be put to sleep. I really hate human beings. Do people really not understand that a dogs love is unconditional, once you have it? They don’t love you for how you look, what you have, or what you do for a living. They love you because...they just love you! Breath in. Breath out R.J.

B.B. was able to find homes for the puppies, and dad. She kept Cooter. She was unsure of whether she would keep him. He was the one she saved. Plus he was the only puppy that looked like he did. By the way, Mom was a Lhasa Apso, Dad was a Cairn Terrier. Purebreds. Cooter was unmistakably his fathers son.

Our Union: B.B. needed a dog sitter one night for Cooter. He was still so little and needed special feedings and care. I knew that she had decided to re-home him. But still, I had not once, thought about taking on a puppy. I was more than happy to puppy sit, but I had to work the carriages that night. Not a problem, she said. You can take him with you. It was cold that night. It had to be in the 30’s. I had him and myself bundled up. I should have just passed on wasting my time going out there that night. No one wanted a ride. They were running to and from the restaurants to stay warm. No way in hell, were they riding on an open princess carriage, next to the water with 20mph winds. I had only been out there for about 45 minutes when I decided “F*&k this. We are done”. I took Cooter down to go potty, when a couple see’s him, They abandon the direction they were going to come see this adorable tiny puppy wandering around in a jacket. That jacket was actually for a cat. (Photo above was taken that night. The night he became my forever puppy. The photo makes him look bigger than he was). They ask me about him, and talked to him. To my surprise, they said they would take a carriage ride, but the catch was puppy had to ride with them in the carriage. Why not? I take them out on a freezing carriage ride. They only wanted to hear his story. They could care less about the historical tour. As we get back to the carriage stand, another couple walks up and asks “Is the puppy riding in the carriage with us included?”. Again. Why not? It went on like this for the next 3 hours. I made $450 on that freezing cold ass night, because of this puppy.

About the “The night he became my forever puppy” thing. Well, he became my puppy. But soul dog, forever puppy and all of that shit… Not quite yet. Don’t judge me, but I had decided to take him because I saw $$. I could make a killing with this puppy. I was such a dumbass back then. I called B.B. and told her I would take him. And then I made a 2nd call and told my, now ex, thank god, that I got a puppy. That went over well. F&$K him. All of the letters capitalized, Bold, Angry font. Reasons will be reveled in Part 2. B.B. stopped by, and dropped off his things. And that was that. He was mine. Or if I’m being honest, I was his. Still not realizing it yet.

Cooter was this tiny puppy that was somehow already an old man. Not in a physical way. But mannerisms. He didn’t really play with toys, or other dogs. We had my ex’s rottweiler at the time. Big sweet bulldozer, named Buster. He plowed everything and everyone over. Especially Cooter.

Unfortunately that is where I have to leave it. This part was easy to share. I remember details like they happened a few days ago. It makes me sad that he is no longer here, on his back, balls out, sleeping soundly, without a care in the world because he is with mom, in his bed. But I can smile thinking about the day that perfect little puppy came into my life. The next part is the hard part. Our life together was amazing. But it wasn’t always easy. And I have regrets. I know some people don’t understand it. But I have grieved that dog harder than I have grieved another person, aside for my dad. You don’t have to understand it. But I dare you to disrespect it. I am known for using anything in my hand to hit an asshole with.

And the real fun! This weeks golden Hot Mess nugget of advice is: For the men- Equestrians love to here how you would do it differently. Tell them often. Especially the one you are dating. For the ladies- Pancakes are like husbands, Just throw the first one or two out. Until next time. Peace Out. R.J.