It’s mysterious how events sometimes unfold in life to meet the needs of the heartbroken.  Such is the case with Tux...a little black dog left at SOAR.  His story begins with the death of another little black dog, Buc.

Jenny, a friend of one of my daughters, placed Buc in my hands in Georgia on July 7th 1994, as I planted flowers at my mailbox base. He fit completely in my hands, weighing about 4 pounds, and so black, you could hardly see his eyes.  Seems Jenny had spotted him at a teen party she attended the week before, being thrown from person to person, dropped several times, and swung around by the skin of his neck.  During all this abuse, he was whimpering in pain and fear.  The boys who brought him were drunk and said they had just gotten him from someone in front of a grocery store earlier that night.  Jenny patiently waited for her turn with Buc, and when his owners went inside the party house, she then sneaked him into her car and drove away.  So Buc actually was a “hot dog” and we nearly called him that.  Jenny felt our home was his destiny, and it was.  He was a tiny miracle, entering our lives that day.

In the next year, Buc grew to 19 pounds eventually, and along the way grew into our hearts, especially that of our youngest daughter, Megan, who was twelve.  Megan had been unwell that summer and had lost all interest in eating, dropping weight dangerously.  We were receiving medical care for her, and she was improving, but with Buc’s arrival, her focus shifted from herself to that little puppy, and we believe he was the instrument of her recovery.

The years passed, the children grew up, went off to college, and Buc was part of it all.  He slept in everyone’s bed, taking turns, lived in numerous houses, took many trips, did many tricks, and was the greatest of companions.  Each of us loved him the most.  When he was 5, he moved with Megan, her Dad and me to Cary, NC.  This move was most difficult for Megan, for it was her senior year of high school, leaving a lifetime of friends behind her.  Buc’s comforting steady presence eased her adjustment. 

Illness struck Buc in his ninth year  in the form of skin cancers which eventually required three separate surgeries.  Much surrounding tissue was removed at each procedure, so there were lots of stitches.  Buc was a trouper and bounded back astonishingly after all but the last surgery.  We thought it might be old age, these changes in his interest and activity level on some days.  But then he would rally, and be just like a puppy, running, jumping and playing as usual.  His vet couldn’t find a cause for the symptoms I repeatedly described, until  July 7th 2005, when he took an abdominal x-ray and discovered the huge, fast growing tumor in Buc’s spleen. It was the size of a baseball, made up of blood vessels and totally unobservable from the outside.

Treatment would be a dangerous and difficult surgery, involving massive bleeding and  transfusions.  If Buc survived that, there would be chemotherapy, and with the very best outcome possible, only 3 to 6 more months of life. Without surgery, he could seize and die alone of internal hemorrhage, should the tumor rupture.  We thought about all that suffering and chose to gently euthanize our Buc.  After taking him home to love exceedingly for a few days, my husband, Megan and I returned to the vet  where we held him in our arms as he peacefully died.  We were inconsolable with grief.  All of us.

In the early months of 2005 when Buc’s tumor was growing, another little black puppy had been born across the state in the Southport area.  For reasons that are unimaginable to me, his owners decided to give him up in late October of 2005.  They tied him to the fence at SOAR and turned their backs.  When the SOAR groundskeeper and maintenance man went out to begin his daily tasks, he heard something out near the front of the property.  Investigating, he found a small black bundle of energy eager to lick and love.

It  is not unusual that dogs are left at SOAR, for people believe their “donated” animals will be accepted and safe.  Unfortunately the facility lacks space to accommodate all the living donations. To discourage this “dropping off” of animals SOAR has a policy of taking all animals received in this manner to the county animal shelter where they are required to remain for five days.  If not claimed within that time frame, because of overcrowding and new dogs arriving, dogs can be euthanized, with no chance of a future.

A SOAR volunteer was enlisted to drive the puppy to the county shelter. Along the way, the puppy would not leave his lap, delivering kiss after kiss.  The irony of this situation was not lost on the volunteer.  Here he was, taking a dog to a very uncertain fate, and yet all this animal could do was give evidence of love and trust.  Right then he vowed to himself  that he would do everything possible to save the puppy.

Upon returning to SOAR, the volunteer sought permission from the manager that after the mandatory stay at the shelter, the puppy would be brought to SOAR to place for adoption.  Each day he called the shelter, checking on the puppy’s status, and on day five, he went for him. As if no time had passed, the dog once more snuggled into the volunteer’s lap, licking  him all the way to safety.  Once “home”, everyone at SOAR became impressed at the love this dog had for life, his playfulness, his gentleness, his affection, and his complete trust of anyone.  And so he was immediately prepared for adoption, his picture was taken and his “promo” went on line.

Meanwhile, three months had passed since Buc’s death and we had decided to search for another dog to love, in his honor and remembrance.  I began to seek a small dog who could fill our lives with joy and erase the silence that shook the house.  Weeks of looking locally at shelters, going on line, contacting various SPCA’s yielded no results.  Megan now lives in Southport, so one day I decided to search the Wilmington area.  Megan, on behalf of our family, could “interview” for adoption there.  On November 3rd, I discovered SOAR’s site on the net, and there in front of me  was the photo of Tux, a new arrival at the facility, a little black dog, estimated to grow to 20 pounds.  I fell in love immediately.  Emailing  the site, I inquired about him, and could not believe he was still available.  There are two people interested in him, one of which has an appointment to meet him, I was told.  Quickly, I asked if  Megan could come and represent us, would we have a chance?  On Saturday the 5th, she  met Tux and fell in love.  Soon as she left the shelter, she called us to say that this dog was exceptional.   Fortune was on our side, for on Nov. 6th we drove from Cary to Southport and sealed the adoption.  The moment we held Tux in our arms, we knew this was right, and our hearts began to heal.

Tux rode to his true home that afternoon like a champ with his new chewy and blue stuffed mouse baby, snuggled into the comforter that SOAR sent with him.  It was as if he had always been ours. All of our children have dogs and Tux came into an extended family of two beagles, two rat terriers and two terrier mixes.

Tux is very different from Buc, and that is how it should be, I think.  Just as every human has a special spirit, so does every animal.  Tux’s overriding spirit is that of absolute, uninhibited love.  He is the ultimate in endearment, like no dog we have ever known.  This gets him a long way in forgiveness of his traits that are not so desired.  Such as “I am so happy to meet you, I will pee everywhere.” Or “I really love the new sofa ever so much better than my dog bed, and ever, ever so much better than my luxury crate, even if it does have my cowboy blanket in it.” There are no strangers in Tux’s world whether human or canine. He respects cats.  He will chase bunnies however, and squirrels. We suspect some hunter in him, for he will hold his head high and sniff the air.  And run...this dog was made to run.  Small tight long body, floppy ears, a little jowl, and the longest, straightest legs ever.  Legs that propel him skyward and loft him off the furniture, or the back deck, airborne for several feet before landing.  If you want to hold Tux, you generally must catch him in midair.  A veritable missile...that is Tux.

As for activities, Tux  loves tearing up any stuffed doggie toy, playing ball, eating chewies, taking walks, and running up and down the backyard fence racing with the rottweiler next door. He gives gentle kisses through the fence to the fingers of the children who live on either side of us.  At the lake he is a real fan of the pontoon boat, racing like a bullet down the path to the dock and putting himself on it.  At the beach Tux is a champion digger, as evidenced by the mound of sand flying between his legs as he searches for China.  Once satisfied, he puts his entire head into the hole with only his rump and stumpy tale visible. You would think he would dig the back yard up in the same manner, but he doesn’t. When scolded about anything, he puts his ears straight back and immediately tries to get in your lap and lean into you, as if to say “ Now, now, I wasn’t that bad, huh?”  And you can’t get mad at that.

Tux came from SOAR already knowing “sit.”  He dances on his hind legs and can go on forever with this.  He also has mastered the jump.  One morning he jumped directly from the floor onto the middle of the kitchen table.  Surprising everyone, we told him he would have to remove this trick from his repertoire.  He knows “touch,” “shake,” “turn,” and “down” and “come.”  He has too much energy to “stay” for longer than 5 seconds, but he is working on that.

I am Tux’s momma, so I’d like to think he loves me best. But I know that is not true.  He shows no favoritism in his affection.  He wants to be wherever his family is and will follow any of us from room to room until we settle down and then he can settle down too. He sleeps in his bed in our bedroom.  From his very first night home with us, he has slept calmly through every night.  I rise first in the morning to our routine of hugs in the bed and long, languid doggy stretches, followed by “outside”, then food.  Tux sits quietly while I eat breakfast until I place my dish on the floor from which he licks the bare remains.  After I leave for work, he goes through the same routine with my husband, as if he didn’t get enough love from me. Very smart dog.

We have taken Tux back to visit SOAR several times since adopting him.  They named him Tuxedo because he has a splash of white on his chest.  We kept the name for it readily fit him.  His nickname there was the Tuxmeister and sometimes we call him that too.  He loves the SOAR visits and I know he remembers everyone who had a part in caring for him until we found each other. We also are so very grateful to the person who took Tux to SOAR, or this wonderful, exceptional, bright, loving dog wouldn’t have become ours.  And, of course, our gratitude to the folks at SOAR can never, ever be fully expressed.  Tux agrees.