I always wanted a dog, but my stepfather was allergic. My husband grew up with basenjis in the 50's in New Bedford MA. They never showed, just had them as pets. They did everything wrong– let them run loose, bred them without planning, but he had great stories about them, particularly one girl named Congo.
His family had a rescue B named Rusty, who was a great character (also loose, but luckily a homebody) when I met him in the 70's. I liked Rusty's aloof confidence, and got my first B in 85-- Kenji. He was backyard bred-charming but turned very dominant and difficult at adolescence, but we worked with and had him until he was 13.
We got our second dog from Matahari B's, and Caddie was a tricolor sweetheart for 15 years.
Now I've got the gentlest, most outgoing B I've ever met. Sol was raised by someone else, and they did a great job-- thanks Eldorado!
I adopted him at 5, and after a few weeks of thinking about it, he decided to stay (he jumped the fence twice, but came when I called the second time). He's my best friend, and even goes to work with me in the winter. And sometimes I wonder if he's really a basenji, because he wags his tail so much-- but only for me.
How Tammie Taught My Mother About Basenjis
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This story is about my first Basenji, Tammie Jean.
When Tammie Jean and I first went to my mother's home, my mother was casual about my insistence that she was "not like other dogs, Mama." Mama, like me, had been raised with all types of animals from the time she was in the cradle. There wasn't an animal alive that she didn't love–except earthworms.
She told me that she was sure it would be okay and that her boxer would show Tammie the ropes. So we went home to visit for the holidays. When we got there, Mama and I visited in the kitchen while I had Tammie on her leash. Mama insisted that I let her off. After all, "I have dog gates up to keep Amber out of the bedrooms."
Knowing what was about to happen, I leaned down to let Tammie off her leash. She barooed at me and my mama then explored the kitchen and den area which were not gated off. As my mother looked at me with all that maternal superiority of being right, Tammie Jean flatfooted over the gate. No gathering up. No warning. Just SPROINGGGGG and she was on the other side of the baby gate. She barooed once more with a donut waggle then raced through the house. She jumped every gate. She rooted on every bed. Then she came back to the kitchen where she sat down to look at my mother.
My mother looked at me and said...
Wait for it...
"Oh my. She's not like other dogs, is she? She's more like a little deer."
The love affair between those two lasted for ever. My mother thought Tammie could do no wrong even when she met her one morning by doing the Basenji morning dance--from the top of the dining room table.
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What a wonderful story!
Pat, Cory, and Jayden
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What a perfect introduction to the breed.
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I love this story so much.
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Thanks everyone. I enjoy telling tales of tails.
Tammie was a pistol for sure. -
Thanks, that brought a big smile!
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Oh, I love story time! Thanks for sharing.
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I love stories that make me smile!!!!! I would baroooo if I could!:)
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I'll try to write up some more of her moments–some precious and others? Not so much.
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Great story about Tammie Jean, please keep them coming
It is so difficult to explain to people how different than other Dogs they are. -
I love hearing these stories about Basenjis - and you do tell them well. I look forward to hearing more!
