SONNY’S STORY

Sonny is a big white fellow, with a head patch. He isn’t the best looking dog, nor the easiest character, mainly because he is too intelligent for his own good.

In March 2000, I was asked to collect a dog from Whitstable. The problem was that the elderly lady owner had a Staffie bitch whose hobby was to duff up Sonny. When I arrived it quickly became apparent that the Staffie had done an efficient job. Sonny could barely walk, the wounds to his elbows had been left untreated for about 3 days, so infection had set in. Naturally enough he was both depressed and in pain.

It evolved that Sonny, who was only two years old had been bred by a South London breeder and sold as a pair to a couple. Apparently they had come into some money and 2 Bullie puppies were one of their buys.

By 6 months, Sonny and his sister’s appeal had worn thin, nothing daunted, our loving owner took them down to the local pub and sold them. Sonny was bought by the elderly lady’s son, who then took his surprise home. The resident six year old Staffie and its Jack Russell friend were “unimpressed”. At some point, poor old Sonny got neutered, presumably to curb the regular fights which weren’t his idea anyway. I contacted his breeder (normal welfare trust practice) who was totally disinterested and he also had no records of who he had sold the dog to.

After going to Whitstable, I took Sonny back home and installed him under a heat lamp on a soft bed, and started off his antibiotic course alongside anti-inflammatories. For 3 days he had to be lifted out of his bed to toilet and he remained depressed. However, after that he improved steadily but it quickly became obvious that he feared men and brooms. After about 6 weeks he was recovered enough to rehome and he was placed with a woman who lived nearby. Sadly he doesn’t like children either and the visiting grandchildren caused a problem. So back he came.

Then a man with an older teenage foster child came forward. They seemed suitable so off went Sonny once more. Everything seemed wonderful and the girl “adored” the dog. All was perfect.

About 5 months later, Sonny reappeared, rejected. One of his crimes was to jump after a child on a playground swing. Quite what a Welfare Bull Terrier was doing loose there didn’t matter – the incident was, of course, the dog’s fault. The owner was given advice but sadly Sonny turned up at the Southampton Kennels wearing a muzzle. They knew that Sonny would probably be euthanised as he was deemed unsuitable for rehoming but, nevertheless he was left there to “have fun” without a backward glance.

After a few days, the kennel manager phoned to ask me if Sonny had any good points, I encouraged them to persist. After a few days I was called again – no one could get near him and he had crunched a broom in half.

Weakening, (do I really need another Bull Terrier) I agreed to adopt him. When I saw Sonny in the kennel he was really raving, barking, snarling and making quite sure everyone knew his intentions. I thought “great” – come all this way and the silly sod doesn’t even know me.

In the end we sat on a low wall opposite his kennel, discussing “Minced Morsels.”

After 10 minutes he had stopped bashing the mesh with his teeth and started to pick up the tit bits thrown in, then taken from fingers and then sitting prettily before taking the reward. OK do we dare? I opened the gate, slipped on the rope lead and suddenly Sonny was Sonny again.

And now? Well, he’s fine, the brain has unscrewed. After 4 months he allowed my husband to walk him to the paddock. Occasionally, just to remind him of his place, he gave chase as the poor man makes a swift exit.

Sonny is a pussy cat, and after his rotten start, it is nice to see him confident and cheeky.

Juliet Shaw. Badlesmere Bull Terriers.