His Name Was Biscuit

The rescue group named him Biscuit – a skinny, mostly white, one-eyed miniature poodle mix who had had a rough start to life. While a cute name, he didn’t quite look like a Biscuit. He was a bit unsure of himself at first, but it didn’t take long for his spunk to shine through. Biscuits, generally, are not spunky. My husband thought Rugby was a much better name for this new addition to our family. I completely agreed. This little guy brought a new level of chaos and fun into our lives. There was no turning back.

I have so many memorable moments with our fur baby. I’ll never forget the first and only time he pulled a corned beef wrapper out of the trash and the corresponding doggie ER visit that followed. That was a valuable lesson learned by all that day. His first toy – a blue unicorn pegasus that he took everywhere in our apartment. The first time he met his doggie best friend, Sully, and all the happy play time that came after. He hates baths, but I discovered he loves the warm hair dryer as a compromise of sorts. Rugby is a sleeps on top of blankets type of dog, unless it is too cold for his liking. I can count the too cold moments on one hand. He absolutely loves walks, but he is the maker of his own destiny – he decides the journey. Then, he sometimes decides he’s too tired to continue on, so he wants to be carried for a bit. Seventeen pounds starts to feel more like fifty after a while. He’s worth it though. So much love crammed into just six and a half years.

My most cherished memory of Rugby, the one burned into my brain, began on an ordinary morning. Nothing unusual. Typical walk around the neighborhood. Typical breakfast time and requests for treats. The best way to start the day is with a treat… according to Rugby. The little furball had been a member of our family for roughly two years at this point. As I was walking by our bed (yes, “our bed” also includes him), he did something so amazing. He rolled over, feet in the air and asked for belly rubs! This was an absolute first.

Now, he’d always seemed to enjoy pets, belly rubs, and back scratches, but he never overtly asked for these things. This was contrary to all experiences I’d had with dogs in the past, but he’d been through a lot in the beginning of his life, so I chalked it up to that.

But, my baby boy, had just rolled over and asked for belly rubs. After I got over the initial shock of the moment, I could not deny him. As I gave in to his demands and told him how handsome and good he was, my heart felt like it exploded with all the love I felt for this little guy. We had reached a new level. He trusted me fully. From the moment he came home with us, that’s all I wanted for him. I wanted him to feel safe, to feel loved, and to know we were always going to be there to take care of him. I wanted him to be able to enjoy his life. Throw his previous worries out the window because he was home.

Now almost anytime we walk past him, Rugby requests belly rubs. My husband calls it “paying the Rugby tax.” A tax we gladly pay multiple times a day. A tax we will happily pay for as long as possible.