For the Love of Mufossa (aka Mufossa Jr. Billy Rottweiler)
We adopted Mufossa in January of 1999. It was a blizzard in WV and we drove through the storm to pick him up from a kill shelter that only kept dogs 72 hours before euthanizing them. We paid $10.00 for him and his registration papers. The owners had turned him over; they had told the canine officer who ran the “shelter” that he as crazy and incouragable. He was 6 months old and weighed 80 pounds. We took him for a short walk when we left the “shelter” in knee high snow. Before we started for our two hour drive home we stopped at Burger King and bought him a plain Whopper. (I know-bad doggie parents.) The rescues of today probably would have never given him to us; we were a young couple who had never owned a dog of our own. We didn’t even really agree, I wanted a Rottie and my then boyfriend (husband now) wanted a Boxer. Well, I won. Through out his life Mufossa had his bad habits: he never liked other male dogs unless he met them when they were pups and they grew up around him, he chased shadows, he never did exactly walk on a leash the proper way (we never forced the issue-again bad doggie parents). A week after we got him we took off to the beach with him. It was January and there was hardly anyone around. We let him run around the beach off leash and the people who owned the small motel we stayed in dearly loved him. I knew for sure I had a good dog when an elderly woman on cane was walking across the courtyard at the motel and ran full speed up to her and instead of knocking her down like many would have expected he sat down infront of her. She patted his head and told him he was good boy and he really was a very good boy. I could tell a million stories about him; might do that in time… I was pregnant when we got Mufossa and didn’t know until a month later. People kept saying, “Aren’t you going to get rid of Mufossa?” Needless to say, those people got a few choice words. Mufossa loved children, all children. Our son to this day calls Mufossa his brother. We lived with my parents and when my father was diagnosed with cancer again people asked were we going to get rid of Mufossa. Hell, no. When my dad was too proud to ask us for help out of the chair he would wrap his arms around Mufossa’s neck and Mufossa would help him to a standing position. Without any training he would walk beside him from room to room making sure he didn’t fall down. When my father passed I didn’t seek the solace of my then boyfriend, my mother or my friends; it was Mufossa I held as I let out my grief. Mufossa had some hilarious quirks: when he was told to back up it was like he kicked in reverse and just walked totally backwards (my friend, Chrissy, used to joke he needed a beeper like a school bus when it backs up.), if you told him to do something and he didn’t want to do it you could start counting to 3 and he would do it (we never made it to 3), at one point we had tv that he would turn the channel on using his tooth (I know experts say dogs can’t see tv but he sure would change it to wild life or animal planet) and I could go on and on. We lost Mufossa in October 2010. In the end we couldn’t save him and it hurt like Hell.