Meet our newest Little One.

This is Toby, our beautiful one-eyed boy. He’s old, 10 years old. He’s a pug. So wrinkled too. He’s slightly overweight (Previously known as Toby the Potato but he’s 500g down now, so halfway there).

So essentially, as I told Squidge when we talked about being matched with Toby by Dogs Trust: “I won’t be the only old and disabled one around here anymore!”

My darling daughter’s response? “Or the only one with wrinkles.” True, if not a little hard to bear!

And I cannot deny that Squidge was also right when she pointed out: “Toby is basically you if you were a dog!”

Old. Wrinkled. Disabled. Slightly anti-social. (Toby’s is a fear of dogs, understandably so given he lost his eye to another dog back in June; mine is draining of the social battery and fear of social rejection.) We both like to stay warm and cosy. We both plod along slowly when we walk. 

So Toby & I are very well matched.

I grew up with dogs and know how companionable they can be. I really wanted my girls to have that experience too. When Kev started to moon at babies again, I diverted his attention by announcing that “You don’t want a baby. You want a dog!” He was quickly on the bandwagon, though I had to backpedal when I told the girls we’d get a puppy. As soon as the words were out I knew I didn’t want to be housetraining a baby dog. So I agreed to rescue.

Because of our planned summer holiday to Cornwall, we weren’t allowed to be considered for matches until we were home. The day after we returned, we presented at Dogs Trust. They were glad to see us though because they had a match to discuss with us – one eyed Toby the pug.

I had no experience with pugs, but hearing that he was old, I figured he’d be the small, calm breed I was after. I wanted to be able to walk him, to care for him without the fear and risk of being pulled over. The fact that he’d lost an eye just made him more lovable. Why shouldn’t this vulnerable, loveable old man be our boy?

We met him the next week. He bounded up the stairs to the meeting room, which I hadn’t expected for an old boy. He smiled at the girls and then plonked himself straight into Kev’s lap for a fuss. Kev grinned and said: “This is happening then, isn’t it?” Not a question. It was a statement. This little dog had claimed us. Simple as that.

We were required to meet him twice and could take him home after the second meeting. We all agreed we wanted that day to be as soon as possible. We arranged for 3 days later. We got excited, buying leads and a bed (which, it turns out, became a trunk for his cuddly toys!).

The day before we were due to collect him, Dogs TRust phoned. The vet was concerned that Toby wan’t producing enough tears in his remaining eye. We couldn’t adopt until they knew he was healthy. Would we still want to adopt, if something was seriously wrong, or if he lost the other eye?

My heart broke for the poor boy. The lady on the phone spoke to Toby at the same time as me, because he was sitting in the office with her.

“Can you hear him?” she asked. “He’s barking.”

“Is that him?” I asked. I’d never heard him bark before.

“Yep. It’s your mum on the phone, Toby.”

Oh my heart. Surely this boy needed someone to love him even more now? What sort of person would I be to reject him in his old age based on a disability?

Kev & I gathered the girls up and presented our options. We couldn’t adopt Toby yet because he might not be well. We could leave him with his foster carers until/if he recovered, or we could become his foster carers tomorrow and administer his medication for a week. I stressed I didn’t know how long Toby would be with us, because I cannot lie to my children. But he was already theirs in their hearts.

They wanted to bring him home, counting down the hours through the next day.

And this beautiful boy has been ours ever since. His eye cried beautifully the next week and we’ve been introducing him to everything we like to do. He’s lost some weight. He’s able to get himself up onto the sofa now. He has spent so long looking at us with his beautiful sad face, kidding us that he can’t possibly do things for himself, but his need to be close to his humans is winning out. 

He is so loving and such good company. He’ll snuggle up next to you, or sit on your foot so you can’t get up and leave him. I hardly ever want to. We plod along on the school run; both girls walk him so well too. He has what we call his “happy-flappy” ears as he trots along. He’s not keen on moving cars so we’ve got him a crate for the boot and he seems calmer. But he is loving the attention from the kids at the school gate. 

I cannot articulate how much I love this dog. He is such a fluffy little love, a friend, a quiet presence warming my always frozen feet with his little puggy bum, trying to kid me he’s been starved with his sorrowful eye. He dances along the floor to his bowl full of breakfast kibble, happily jumping and barking, doing what we call “the dancing dog”, his nails skittering against the laminate. I adore the “tippy happy”. His presence brings me calm and peace, a little friend for me to chatter to all day long. He’s like a little piece of my heart I didn’t know was missing.

I’m so glad he’s here, with his family

He fits in beautifully, my little disABLEd dog.