If you have a moment, can you please share some words of comfort with our dear foster parents, Robert and Meg? They had to say goodbye to Winifred, who they’ve cared for since last fall.
Robert writes: Meg and I caressed Miss Winnie before her paws luxuriated in the lush grass on the Elysian Fields side of the Rainbow Bridge. Her demons were cast out during the crossing and she will resume the blessed life of a beloved creature of God.
Closing in on 12 years, her sundowners dementia introduced increasing aggression, a pattern we have previously witnessed in two of our other vintage ladies. Most just fade, but some Bulldogs do not share that luck. Winnie demonstrated gentle behavior, but increasingly snapped unpredictably into angry mode.
Now, she rests in peace, happiness, love, and the companionship of those who have preceded her.
Until we meet again, sweet Miss Winnie. You are loved.
Bulldog family this week I joined rescue! Well really on Sept. 21 2021 I joined rescue after being picked up wandering around town as a stray. I am not from the DFW area, but I knew when I was healed mentally and physically, I would be leaving the rescue where I was and would be joining LSBCR.
My photos from a year ago are really hard to look at. But those days I will never forget. The C-section scar was so infected I could barely stand. I was so dehydrated when I was picked up, I went straight to the hospital. I had every worm there was was living inside me, covered in ring worms, ears so infected they leaked and I was literally starving to death. Who does this to a living being?
But to say I hit the jackpot when foster and friend Helen said she would foster me is an understatement. Helen LOVED me. The medicated bathes were the bomb! The attention, the love, the prayers, I really thought I was in heaven.
It’s been a little over a year now and it was time we said our goodbyes. So, with tears flowing like rain Helen packed my clothes, toys and things she thought I needed. I got a new harness because at 40 lbs. nothing fit anymore. We took tons of pictures, we danced around, and then I jumped in the SUV and headed north. Helen was ready to help another one in need, and I was ready to share my story.
Helen said I was a senior lady and Dr. Larsen agrees. When my mind goes back to my other life I just think “Here I am just sitting around waiting on that Karma train.” Hope it comes soon. Love Winifred a survivor of pain.
10/21/22 Update: Greetings and salutations to the extended Bullie world.
Tis I, Miss Winifred, but you can call me Winnie, but not Freddie. My former foster mom says you can even call me Lulu!
Notice my red coat! Get it, an English Bulldog and a Red Coat? Isn’t my humor revolutionary? Forsaking a standup comedy future, I prefer your home; if you seek a loving companion, an energetic lady, and classic Bullie physique, I fill your bill.
You may know that LSBCR saved me a few weeks ago. After clearing medical protocols, I chose Chez Maison Ménard BBnB for my foster home. Buzz ‘round the clinic touted the haute cuisine epicurean obsession of the staff here. As a full figured lady of taste, I decided in one shake of a cinnamon bun tail. Gourmet food and no ante? Deal me in.
While relaxing in decompression mode, I cotton to the pace of life here. The resident fur queen, at 10 years, downshifted to low gear some time ago. While I master the routine, and gear up for my fur-ever home, interim serenity and security works for me.
My new foster family spoke to my former foster Mom, who nursed me back to health. My new fosters now have the 822 on me – that’s the 411 for you bipeds who remember 411. An essential take away came in the conclusion that although 11 years old, I sport the energy and spirit of a 5 year old. Tom Brady played his first professional game when most of the people sharing his field today wore diapers. The Satchel Paige conundrum asks, “How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you wuz?”
During my first full day here, I sampled the Bulldog Happy Hour. I noshed on Chicken Fettucine Alfredo a la entrée, fresh melon balls for fruit, and bits of pumpkin spiced pastry for dessert. Between the warmed morning and evening meals and BHH, a girl could learn to love again.
My fosters have noticed that they must wipe my butt after pooping. We Bullies and you Bipeds share this practice. Now, for a little potty humor. What do the Star Ship Enterprise and toilet paper have in common? They both circle Uranus looking for Klingons. Add my name to that list. Guffaw, guffaw.
I promise to keep all y’all advised of my antics Chez Maison Ménard BBnB. A word to willing adoptive families. Have you heard about a diamond in the rough? Well, refer to me as a diamond in the buff.
Love, best wishes, and ciao ciao. I love the Italian language because those words sound like, “chow chow”. Did someone say food?
10/26/22 Update: Dear Bullie friends, family and fans,
Whew, the pace of my progress this week has dizzied my foster peeps. Nervousness during my first night disappeared within 24 hours. Since then, not even one inside accident. As a knowledgeable and refined lady, I refuse to disappoint them.
I crave foster dad’s attention and shadow his every move, especially if he ambles toward the kitchen. He might need my clean up services if any food drops. Methinks he intentionally drops meat bits my way, but we keep such rendezvous on the sly.
My comfort level reveals my true temperament. FD thrilled to my affection. I have already earned run of the house privileges, and the resident fur queen and I have attained sistren status. In honor, the Main Bullie Dining salon now sports my name plate. I HAVE ARRIVED!
My pose on the big girl bed in FD’s office suggests that I need a smaller bed. Huh? Comfort comes in vagaries and I accept all donations of comfort, food, and affection. Hey, blame my Bullie DNA.
In an unexpected meeting, I reconvened with my dogtor, Doc Larsen at the Campisi’s event and she even examined me. She confirmed that my age, according to teeth and other physical indicators, suggests that I am closer to 7 or 8. Sometimes, the surrendering information contains errors.
To wax braggadocios albeit veracious, I wowed the assembled masses at Campisi’s in Rockwall on Sunday. The humanity crowd oohed and ahhed over me. No need for modesty; if ya got it, flaunt it! However, some in the caninity crowd exhibited poor manners. I encountered several Mean Girls who did not brook my attendance. They should not expect a greeting card from me at Christmas. Ever the lady, I will not repeat what they said.
No matter, see me and my resident fur sister lazing at home. Do you see a threat to other dogs?
Let me list but a few of my assets:
Foster peeps report no short comings. You might not want to wait long…
11/1/22 Update: Yo, I reel as excited as a Pointer sister. And the hits keep coming…
Big news! I graduated this week. The lease on my apartment expired so FD asked if I would consider moving into the doggy dormitory. Kidding me? Sleeping beside FD and the other girls marks my ascension into the favorites. Moreover, the vacant apartment invites another deserving Bullie. My peeps have consulted their Bulldog spiritual advisor, my dogtor, to find the best new pup for dis place. We Bullies wax anxious to meet her.
I hope for one that eschews conniving coteries, and epitomizes WYSIWYG. Who could believe that an abandoned waif such as I would ever deserve such fortune. Thank you LSBCR!
Given my full range freedom, I explored the resident queen’s bed. I also tried her she shed. This experience prepares me for my fur-ever home. I want to be queen of the manor just as the present resident queen reigns.
I love FD’s warmed meals and especially favor his rotating protein menu. I have sampled so many meats, fish, and fowl that I never knew before. Ha Cha Cha!
Life here thrills me. See me venture to ask FD if he had a girlfriend. He said that I was his girlfriend and I blushed. I knew it, but wanted to hear him say it.
Brazenly, I pushed the topic and asked FD if he knew when my fur-ever family would take me home. He assured me that we all worked toward that goal.
Do not disappoint my FD. Send in your apps and I will review them.
11/21/22 Update: Dear Santa Paws, I know demands on your time at this Season preclude individual responses. No matter, I Miss Winnie, affectionately called “Little One”, respect your schedule. Please ask your favorite elf to answer and I will cherish my elite Bullie status.
Pardon my confusion. I hear Christmas carols on the radio and TV, see ads for Christmas trees, decorations, and gifts, and the Thanksgiving holiday has not yet turned the calendar page.
I fear getting lost in the shuffle so allow me to pitch my spiel. My miniature status and alleged age may discourage families from adopting me. My peeps tell me how special I rank amongst LSBCR Bullies.
My tiny physique and your gigantic reputation may serve both of us well. This is my plea to the adoptive Bullie world. I have set it to iambic pentameter.
All I want for Christmas is a family please; A family please, yeah, a family please; And if I were to find a home to call my own; It would be the bestest Merry Christmas known
Meanwhile, back at of Chez Maison Ménard BBnB, the Thanksgiving menu posted in the main Bullie Dining Salon calls for turkey with gravy, mashed potatoes with celery root, meat and bread stuffing, homemade cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie. Can you spell Ha-Cha-Cha?
1/25/23 Update: Dear friends, fans, fosters, potential adopters, and all mortals of good will,
Miss Winnie at the keyboard, self-compelling a mental health break so I can message the outside world. Wow, hectic faintly describes my schedule for the past several weeks within the confines of this BBnB.
Let me recite my attractive adoption quotient:
*Foster Dad claims that they don’t make Bulldogs better than I. Grandi elogi, usually reserved for the resident queen. So honored that I blush…
*I seek and crave affection. Well, who doesn’t?
*No worries about my behavior, if you discount my occasional jealousy toward other pups.
*I enjoy run-of-house privileges and will not disappoint you, extraordinary oopsies aside.
*I exhibit the energy of a younger pup.
For about a month since Thanksgiving, I have tolerated the intrusion of a visitor. Foster Dad took a shine to Big Boy (aka foster boy Coltrane), but I saw him as an interloper. I cozied up just fine with Foster Dad and along comes a 103 lb bruiser and they strike up a bromance. Harrumph with that. I am Foster Dad’s girlfriend, a petite cutie, the epitome of feminine charm! Thank my stars that we have ditched Big Boy and I can resume my elite status.
As that competition was not sufficient, a new Bulldog foster dog took residence here in December. She was a problem child. But after several weeks of intensive management, she conquered all her problems and blossomed into a productive family member. She and I have become BFFs, but I fret about her stealing Foster Dad’s affections. We both sleep in the doggy dormitory beside Foster Dad’s bed, as well as in his office much of the day.
Sweeties such as I rarely grace Lone Star Bulldog Club Rescue availability. Foster peeps insist that I may live here forever, but I hanker for a furever home. As the Supremes sang, “Come see about me.”
5/18/23 Update: Miss Winifred, maybe closing in on 11 years old, if you believe her propaganda, went out for business after Happy Hour. Soon thereafter, I heard rushing water so tracked it down. Wini, an inquisitive and mischievous pup had turned the rotary hand (paw?) valve on the eastern side sill cock. Perhaps she wanted a drink, or maybe a shower. No matter, I could not believe my eyes .
Had I recognized the opportunity to video this event, it might have gone galactic. I slapped my thigh and called her inside. Upon arrival at the door, all I could hear was more running water – DANGED if she had not turned the water on again.
