Our Little Fergus (our rescued pup)

    I shared yesterday, that we have a new addition to our family, Fergus.  We adopted Fergus this past Saturday from the Humane Society.  He's a beagle / Boston terrier mix, and completely adorable.  When we first got him, he did not act like a puppy, he acted like an old dog.  He just wanted to lie down, he did not want to play.  When we raised our hand to pat him, he cowered, fearful of being hit.  He is most afraid of Christopher.  Night before last, Christopher was carrying something, and poor little Fergus began to cower and whimper.
    I called the Humane Society to see if there was any background information about Fergus that I could know.  All that they could tell me was that he was from a puppy mill.  Knowing his past does not change his future with us, it just seems like it would be good to know.  I have only ever personally had one other dog before.  Maggie was also a rescued puppy.  At the time I was tutoring adults.  I would go to their homes and teach them to read, write, math, and basic life skills that they had missed in school.  One day one of the women that I tutored told me about a neighbour of theirs.  That neighbour's dog kept having puppies, and he would just take the puppies and shoot them or drown them.  To say that I was horrified would be a gross understatement.  I had the woman call the neighbour and see if I could take one of the puppies.  I wanted to take the litter, but it was better to save at least one. We drove over to the farm.  There were 6 - 8 little black and white puppies.  They had had little human contact.  The bigger puppies were all growling at me.  The tiny little runt who was black and tan, came running over to me.  She alone was unafraid, that was my puppy, that was our Maggie.  Maggie was in terrible shape when I first brought her home.  She had survived the first three months of her life on her mother's milk alone.  She had an orange tinge to her fur.  She was riddled with worms.  It took several treatments to get them all.  She turned out to be the best dog that anyone could ever ask for.  She had not had much human contact, she had been neglected, not physically abused.  Maggie lived to be 14 years old, a far cry from her brothers and sisters.
   When I first looked into that cage at my little Fergus, he brought a physical reaction to me.  I stood there feeling like an idiot fighting back tears.  As  I filled out the adoption papers, I fought back tears.  Every time he flinches, I fight back tears.   I just don't know how anyone could hurt an animal, or anything for that matter, like that.  I find myself wishing that I could take it all away for him.  All I can do is reassure him.  All that I can really do is love him.
    We have now had him for 4 days, and he is a little more relaxed.  He does not flinch quite as much, I know that this will take time, and lots and lots of love.  Yesterday I lay on the floor with him and just lay there.  He does not really come to us yet, so I go to him.  He lay there, wanting to be patted, but unsure.  In the end, I patted his little head, and eventually rubbed his soft little tummy.  He flipped over and lay on his back, letting me rub his tummy.  This is progress.  I'll take what I can get.