Adopted
Adopted
Bumper ...Hi, I'm Bumper. My foster Dad describes me to his friends as a 1 1/2-year-old, 60-pound boy with a beautiful light blond coat, big brown eyes, and the most loving personality of any Golden he has fostered. Now, let me tell you how I got the name “Bumper”! When Dad brought me home from the animal shelter I didn't have a name, so he sat on the back porch petting me and saying different names to see if he liked them. Every time he stopped petting, I would bump his hand to get him to start again. Finally he looked at me and said, “Maybe ‘Bumper’ suits you best!” Yep, that’s me. Dad has another Golden, Prince, and if I see Dad petting him, I run over and bump his hand off Prince so Dad has to pet Prince with one hand and me with the other.
Prince and I like to explore the yard together and rough-house with each other until we are both panting. Prince will chase a cat if it comes into the yard, but I'm really not interested in cats. Dad says my previous owners must never have played with me, because I don't retrieve—in fact, I duck sideways when he raises his arm to throw the ball. He says they must have hit me more than they played with me, if you can even imagine that! But all that has changed, thank goodness, and I am really getting confident. For instance, when I first came here, I was afraid to get in the car (I had to be lifted in), but now I love to go for a ride. We all went shopping at Petsmart the other day, and I just loved getting petted by the little kids and their parents. Another time we went to the vet’s, and she said I was in perfect health: good heart, clean ears, beautiful coat, no skin problems, and such a friendly loving manner. I think she spent more time petting me than examining me! When we go in the car, Dad puts the leash on and leaves it on as he is afraid I might jump out as soon as the door is opened, as I get so excited to see new areas. He also holds my collar when he answers the door at home, just so I won’t try to run out to say hello.
Dad is also teaching me to stay in a crate when he leaves. He always gives me a bone stuffed with peanut butter and dog biscuits when I go in, so I won’t think I am being punished. At night, I sleep on a dog bed in the bedroom—and I have never had an accident at night, even if I’ve been indoors for 10 hours straight.
Today, Dad had a talk with me and said that it’s been great having me as a foster dog, but now it’s time to find me a forever home. I’ll miss Dad and Prince—but I will be excited to be “our” dog, not “our foster dog,” and to tell everyone, “This is my forever home and my forever family!”