Until I met my wife, Jean, who had two white female toy poodles, I never thought of myself as a "poodle person". I always thought of them as fluffy, pampered little yappers, not "real" dogs like a German Shepherd or Rottwieller.

I didn't let Jean's affection of Poodles effect my feelings for her and I soon l earned that there was a lot of intelligence and devotion behind all of the fluff. Same goes for the Poodles.

After we married, Jean would occasionally but carefully select a suitable AKC (American Kennel Club) registered male Tiny Toy Poodle to breed with one of the females. The sale of the resulting litter was used to offset the costs of responsibly caring for our Poodles. As was inevitable our two became three, four, and finally five, three females and two males. Some puppies you get so attached, you just can't sell...at any price. At three Poodles, you start to see the "pack" behavior manifest itself with the bigger, smarter, and more aggressive striving for "top dog" position but as long as they thought of Jean and me as the alpha female and alpha male, everything worked fine. The grooming bill was high but these five ate only about as much as a full grown German Shepherd.

A Poodle that stands 10 inches or less at the shoulder is considered by the AKC to be a Toy Poodle. Although breeders break this down even further by referring to the smaller ones as "Tiny Toy" and "Teacup" (I've even heard of a smaller classification called "Pocket Poodle") they are not officially recognized by the AKC. One of Jean's original two would have been called a Toy but the rest were standard Tiny Toys...until Buckaroo.

Buckaroo was the smallest of our tiny toy poodles and came into our household at the age of 3 when Jean "rescued" him from a cruel (my opinion) breeder. Granted the breeder's wife, who had recently left him, was the poodle breeder, while he bred hunting dogs. She had left her "breeders" with him while she tried to find someplace to move them. Many reading this may wonder why we didn't report him to the authorities. The reason is because Jean saw no other "abuses" and she (we) had rescued the one she saw.

Jean was looking for a small Toy Poodle to breed our small female Tiny ToyPoodle, Jasmine, and heard through the grapevine of a breeder in a nearby city who had small males. When she arrived, the breeder tried to convince herto breed with another small male who was not quite up to Jean's standards due to short legs. She saw Buckaroo from a distance in a kennel with the man's large hunting dogs and expressed an interest in him. At first, the breeder didn't want to show him and tried to convince Jean to breed Jasmine with his original offering. Jean can be rather persuasive and the man finally agree to show her Buckaroo(he was called Frailly, Jr., or something like that, at the time). Jean saw right off that Buckaroo was in poor health. He was skin and bones with barely enough strength to stand and was in no shape to breed. Jean couldn't leave him where he was and offered to buy him. It was a good thing this man didn't know how determined she was because if he had asked for $1,000, she would have agreed.

Jean carefully gathered Buckaroo up and headed home but not before stopping at the first veterinarian to have Buckaroo checked out. The vet said that Buckaroo was not getting enough to eat and would have starved within 2 weeks if she had not rescued him. He also said that his teeth were in poor shape and it appeared that he had gum disese. When Jean arrived home, she quietly came into the house, fearful that I would object to her bringing another dog into the house. She quickly began her explanations but when I looked at him with those soulful eyes, I stopped listening to her and started trying to make him feel welcome. He would be considered slightly bigger than a teacup, every rib showing, trembling, matted fur everywhere, barely able to stand, weight: maybe 4 lbs. soaking wet, literally. One of the first things I said was we had to rename him because the Frailly Jr. would give him an inferiority complex and from this point he needed a new name for a new life. Jean, for some reason, started to refer to him as Buckaroo, to distinguish him from the other dogs during conversation, and remembering a movie I saw, said that she had found his name, Buckaroo Bonsai Jr., a big name for a (not so) big dog.

From all indications he had been left to fend for himself in a kennel of hunting dogs and was low man on the totem pole come dinner time. Even the hunting dog puppies, barely old enough to eat dry food were bigger than him. Of course, being so small, he didn't have a chance against the bigger dogs but we learned, through his actions after he came to live with us, how he had survived. When the dogs got fed, he would quickly dart in, grab some of the dry dog food in his mouth and then just as quickly either darted back or was pushed aside. He would then "suck" on it as long as possible, keeping the food in his cheeks. He dare not chew because then the other dogs would see that he had something to eat and would most likely attack to try to get the food. The survival technique had it's drawbacks because the food stayed in his mouth so long, while he was sucking on it, that it caused gum disease. Soon after he came to us, we noticed that his cheeks were puffed out so we took him to our vet because we thought he had swollen gums, and while the vet was cleaning his teeth, 19 of his teeth just basically fell out during the scraping. The vet assured us that his quality of life would improve and indeed it didn't stop him from crunching the dry food that we kept out for our Poodles. The vet said that he had never seen such a "young" dog have such troubles with teeth and gums. We also learned that he suffered from a condition called hypo-glycemia, a low blood sugar condition common among small breeds as well as many humans. He would frequently have seizures that left him helpless and unable to protect himself or even get out from under the other dog's feet until the seizure passed. At a later visit for a check-up and after we had determined the true reason his cheeks were occasionally puffed out, we explained our theory to the vet and he readily agreed that the survival method would explain the mouth problems but said that it was amazing to him that such a little dog was so smart to come up with his technique. He also told us to squirt a sugar-water mixture into his mouth at the beginning of his seizures to lessen them and to help return his blood-sugar level closer to normal. I remembered reading that white corn syrup was more easily digested so we kept "white" Kayro syrup and a syringe, for squirting, by the kitchen sink. When we did this, he would resist and fight (without biting), but we found that the sooner we gave the syrup and water solution to him, the more it minimized his attack. Even more amazing was the fact that he began to trust us enough to come to one of us when he felt an attack coming on so that we could treat him and comfort him. It was our responsibility to recognize the symptoms he was displaying to get him treated quickly. The attacks would happen almost daily and I was determined to keep them from happening so I did a lot of research on the internet about hypo-glycemia. After hundreds of web sites that offered no help, I found one that said a study showed that high levels of chromium helped some human subjects who also suffered from this disease. It appeared that chromium helped to regulate blood-sugar levels. The study said that one high source of chromium was brewer's yeast. We immediately went to a health food store, purchased a rather large can of brewer's yeast and began mixing a rounded 1/4 teaspoon with the canned food that we fed him, and the rest of our Poodles, in the afternoon. Although we saw little immediate results, we continued this treatment and within a month saw that his seizures were happening less often and they were less severe. The chromium in the brewer's yeast was working to balance the blood-sugar levels.

In the months that followed, Buckaroo gradually began to fill out and regain his strength. His seizures became non-existent or mild and only on occasions when he became extremely excited due to an unknown visitor or guest at the house. Our "home grown" Poodles tolerated him more than accepted him and he began to find his niche in our "six-pack" (actually eight counting Jean and myself). He didn't have to fight for his food anymore since we fed each of our Poodles in their own small kennel, and he began to be a devoted member of our family. So devoted, that it almost cost him his life when he defended his brothers and sisters of the pack against what was perceived as an attack or intrusion on our "home territory" by our neighbor's full grown Dalmatian dog.

It happened on a bright, warm day when Jean was doing the laundry. The washer and dryer is located in our garage and on this day, Jean had opened the outside door in an effort to let some breeze into the garage. On a trip with an armload clothes to the washing machine, she had left the door open that led from the house to the garage and several of the Poodles followed her into the garage. My neighbor had let his Dalmatian out of his backyard to run and exercise, but even though he was in his yard, our Poodles must have thought that was too close and began to charge, yapping, growling and barking. My wife quickly began to call them back and a couple of them heard her and stopped while others, who most likely couldn't hear her because of their own barking, including Buckaroo, continued to charge. What followed, in retrospect, would have been comical had no injuries been inflicted. I was outside and close enough to see and hear the commotion. I quickly ran to the altercation. We were yelling and calling our Poodles, our neighbor was calling and trying to catch his Dalmatian by the collar, the dogs were only paying attention to each other. The Dalmatian, four to six times the Poodles size, obviously thought these noisy little white puffs of fur were a new type of toy because she was picking the Poodles up one-by-one, giving them a shake and then tossing them several feet through the air while she continued to dance around wagging her tail and looking for the next toy. After what seemed like minutes, but couldn't have been more than a few seconds, we all regained control of our pets. On inspection, we saw that three of our Poodles had suffered several rather deep gashes and cuts and although Buckaroo wasn't the worst damaged, he had his share of bleeding puncture wounds. Wrapping the injured Poodles in towels, we rushed them to our vet who gave them shots of antibiotics, sewed up their wounds, and because all of the dogs, including the Dalmatian, had recent anti-rabies and distemper shots, sent them home for our careful administering of attention. Our neighbor felt very bad about the injured Poodles even though it was their over zealousprotection that caused the fight. He could not believe these small little dogs would attack another dog six times their size. It only went toprove to me, when it came to protection of the pack, these little dogs had no sense of self preservation, anything with two or more legs, any size, anytime, bring it on. All of our Poodles recovered from their wounds and maybe because Buckaroo had displayed his willingness to mix it up along with them, the rest of the Poodles soon seemed to accept and respect him a little more. That day, he became a little bigger in their eyes.

I have a habit of staying up late, watching TV, and falling asleep on our sofa. On these nights, as I start drifting off, Buckaroo would come to the sofa, stand up on the side and ask if he could join me by scratching softly on the sofa. At first, I was hesitant because of my fear that I might roll over on him and crush his little body beneath me without realizing what I was doing. After several times of inadvertently drifting off with him either in my lap or laying next to me and then waking to find that he was still snuggled close or had jumped to the floor, I began to relent and always assisted him up to what appeared to be his favorite spot, anywhere next to me. The other night, as I was stretched out on the sofa, watching some inane movie and about to fall asleep, I heard a soft coughing on the floor next to the sofa. I peered over the edge and saw Buckaroo laying on his side and he coughed a couple of more times as I watched. I gently reached down to comfort him and because I got no acknowledgment, looked closer. His head was slightly thrown back and his tongue lolled from his mouth. I immediately picked him up to try to determine the problem. At first, I thought it might be one of his seizures but that was quickly eliminated because instead of tight and stiff, he was very limp. I also quickly noticed that he did not seem to be breathing, I placed my finger in his mouth and pressed down on his tongue, with my other hand I formed a cup or tube around his muzzle and blew air into his lungs. After a couple of quick breaths by me, I quickly went to our bedroom where Jean was already asleep. I woke her and said that we needed to get Buckaroo to the animal hospital...NOW! While she was getting dressed, finding the emergency phone number, and generally trying to come fully awake, I continued to try to get Buckaroo to breath. I was also gently but firmly trying to perform CPR on his little chest since I wasn't sure if his little heart was beating. It was only a couple of minutes since I started resuscitation when his bladder and sphincter released. I continued my administrations for a short time while checking for some signs of life, any sign, please God, pupils, chest activity, heart beat....nothing. He was gone.

Jean quietly took him from me, wrapped him into one of his favorite blankets and placed him in his kennel. It was almost midnight. I didn't sleep much that night.

The next morning, I went outside early and next to where we had buried one of the original two Poodles, that we had put to sleep due to poor health caused by old age (her name was Sashay and she was almost 17 years old!), I dug the grave for Buckaroo. I went back inside the house and gathered up the blanket that contained all that was left of Buckaroo. Jean came with me and comforted me as best she could, through her tears, as I laid my "itty-bitty buddy" in his grave and covered him with tear dampened soil.

For those who have never owned a dog, or any pet for that matter, it might be hard to understand the grief. It's the grief of loss of a family member, a dearly loved one, a member of your pack. Someone who would willingly risk life and limb against any foe, anything with two or more legs, any size, anytime, bring it on.

Rest easy Buckaroo, you're no longer itty-bitty, if you're anything like the hole you left behind in our lives, you're a huge dog.

Buckaroo Bonsai Jr. May 25, 1995-August 27, 2004

I have not been crying so much lately, but your story about Master Buckaroo Bonsai, Jr., has tears falling down my face too. Buckaroo -- such a brave little man. I am so, so sorry to hear about his dying. He sounds like the most precious little fellow. My heart aches for you and your wife. I too had a brave little bitty one girl -- Hannah, and I miss her with all my heart and being. She was almost 16 when I had her put to sleep on April 19, 2004.

Little Mr. Buckaroo IS larger than life now -- he's with all our babies at the Bridge, where they all await us.

Bless you and your wife. Your tribute to Buckaroo was just wonderful. What a love story! Please post some photos of Buckaroo Bonsai, Jr., when you feel like it. I can't wait to see him.

I am sorry you had to come here, but I am so glad you found this site. So many wonderful, caring people here. You will be hearing from them for sure!

Marcia
Baby Hannah's Mom and Babe's Mom

I used to think with all honesty that I hated the human race, I stopped reading papers and listening to the news because I despaired at how we acted towards one another and – well - etc etc.
When I read the stories on this site I realise that not all humans are ignorant and selfish and it kind of lifts my spirits a little to know that there are compassionate loving people in the world.
The life you and your wife gave Buckaroo must have restored his faith in the human race and to have lived the rest of his life knowing how much he was loved must have made his little heart as big as yours.
I send your wife my love and respect for saving his little sole and wish you both a long and happy life to give many many more toy poodles a loving and caring home.
Love Sue

I am sorry for your and your wife's loss of Buckaroo.
We have a white toy poodle and he's a fiesty one! He would chase "big" dogs out of our yard with me right behind him trying to catch him so he wouldn't get hurt. Here is this small dog, yapping, growling, and chasing "big" dogs! You and your wife gave Buckaroo a very good life and he knows how much you both love him just as he loves you both very much. He is at Rainbow Bridge with all our pets, healthy, happy, running, and playing. When I read your writing tears formed and streamed down my face because on June 25th my 17-yr old furkitty died. It's been a long hard road but it's getting easier. Some days are harder then others but I get through them. Coming here was the best thing I could've done and I'm very glad that I did. Please keep coming here as it helps a lot.


Wanda

Dear Clif,

I am so sorry for the loss of Buckaroo. He sounds like a truly special dog. All animals are special but there are a few that just stand out and Bukaroo was one of those. You and your wife were very lucky to have found Buckaroo and Buckaroo was a very lucky dog to have found you and your wife.

God bless you for all you have done.

Love and Belief,
Stymy's Mom (Vicki)

What a beautifully-told story, Clif. I am so sorry for your loss. What a wonderful, brave little (big!) dog your Buckaroo was! I am grateful that your wife found him before it was too late, and that he had the opportunity to have so much love and care before he passed on. His life might have been so different if he hadn't found the two of you.

Nanci

As everyone here knows, I am rarely at a loss for words. But I have to say that stories like this reaffirm my faith in humanity.

What a wonderful family Buckaroo was a part of. What wonderful human parents he had. I'm so glad you found each other.

I'm sure he's somewhere else right now - leader of the pack.

What a beautiful tribute to your brave Buckaroo. You gave him a second chance and a wonderful life.

Clif...what a wonderful tribute to your "big" dog! I doubt that anyone would be able to read what you wrote without putting themselves right in your shoes--right then while you tried to bring your wonderful friend back to life. Who among us wouldn't do anything, absolutely anything to have our best friend returned to us? And in your case you literally got to give it a try. I have nothing but admiration for you. If animals could magically pick their owner they would be lining up for you...Sometimes I think about all the folks who don't care too much one way or another about animals but then there are people like you--!! and it is usually only some sort of serendipity that an animal gets to be with people like you and Jean. It is the "luck of the draw"! Your ittybitty buddy was so lucky! I am so glad he was so blessed by being owned by you. Owned by someone who worried about if he would roll over and hurt him in the night. Owned by someone who looked after his every need with total and unyeilding commitment. Owned by someone who snatched him away from a certain love-less existence. Buckeroo must of had some sort of cosmic help that day!
I loved reading your story...a story of hope and ceaseless devotion. I am glad buckeroo got to be yours....and that you got to be his.
Thinking of you!
Love,
Patti

I want to thank everyone for their kind words and support. "Buckaroo's Story" didn't start out as a story but as a "bulk" email that I was going to send to family and friends who knew Buckaroo. They each knew at least part of the story and I would go into detail for one person, a portion of the story and then detail a different portion for a different person. It took all day and ALL of my strength because, you know, I would write a few lines, cry a lot of tears, write some more lines, cry some more tears, until it was finished. It's been a week (tonight) since Buckaroo's passing and although I feel this tremendous loss, still, I don't break down to the point of incoherence now, at least. Thanks again to everyone and I will eventually add Buckaroo's picture here.

Clif,
A week tonight that Buckaroo's been gone. It's still so recent, I know it hurts so incredibly much. I am sorry, so sorry we all have to go through this, but I know not one of us would have traded the love to keep away the pain. So much love.

"Buckaroo's Story" is really so well told, so beautiful, so heartbreaking too. He would be so proud of you, his dad! So proud -- just as proud as you were of him!

Bless you on this sad "anniversary" night. The world is so much more lonely without our little ones in it with us.

Marcia
Baby Hannah's Mom and Babe's Mom