Benji

BENJI'S STORY -- THE
HOMECOMING

I met Benji (AKA Shaft) for the first time late
one night in June of 1997. It was a Saturday
night and John and I were returning home from a
night at the movies. We drove into our
subdivision, and it was very dark and quiet, the
way it normally is late at night. As we got closer
to our house, the headlights picked up a shadowy
figure in the middle of the street. My first
thought was that a dark colored bag of garbage
had rolled into the street. As we got closer, there
he was -- a little terrier-type dog that closely
resembled the dog that portrayed Benji in the
early "Benji" movies.

What was very unusual about this first encounter
was that this little dog was not just in the middle
of the road. He was sitting up in a begging
position, facing the car, and refusing to move.
John and I just looked at each other thinking,
"OK, what do we do now?" John got out of the
car and walked over to him. Benji was so happy
that his whole little body was wagging.

Because it was so late, we allowed Benji to sleep
in our garage overnight. Since he was a stranger,
I didn't want to take any chances on having our
other dogs exposed to something he may have been
carrying. He was perfectly happy sleeping on a
pile of blankets in the garage.

The next morning I put a collar and leash on him
and took him for a long walk around the
subdivision hoping someone would recognize him or
that he would recognize his home. We walked
around for more than an hour but no one had seen
him before. I repeated this walk two more times
during the day hoping to be able to catch more
people outside. Still no one knew who he was.
Our final conclusion at the end of the day was
that someone who didn't want him anymore just
dropped him off in the subdivision where he might
find a new home.

Monday morning I dropped Benji off at our vet's
office so he could get his shots and a thorough
examination before I introduced him to the other
dogs. After his day at the vet's, he was given a
clean bill of health except for having worms for
which he received treatment. The introduction
went really well and he was accepted by all.

Benji was with us for about 2 weeks when there
was a knock on the door one night. The people
lived at the far end of the subdivision and
happened to be driving by on their way home and
saw Benji playing in the backyard. Their only
comment was, "we wondered what happened to
him". He didn't really seem that anxious to leave
with them, but he did.

A few weeks later, I arrived home from work and
was happily greeted by Benji, who had been
waiting by the garage door for someone to get
home. He seemed so happy to be back. We
phoned his owners to let them know he was back,
and they came down to pick him up the next day.
This routine continued. Whenever Benji could slip
off his collar or break his chain, he would come
down to our house and wait for us to let him in.

His owners even got a second dog, thinking maybe
he was lonely and needed company. This made no
impression on Benji. He still preferred his doggie
buddies at our house. On one occasion his
"people" even tried tying his chain to a heavy
cinder block. The poor little guy must have
struggled all day long to drag that cinder block to
our house. When we got home, there he was --
cinder block and all.

His folks started taking longer and longer to come
pick him up. It was not unusual for Benji to be at
our house for 2 weeks at a time. This continued
until September of 2002 when they came to pick
him up and announced that they were moving to
another city about 45 minutes away. It was
Labor Day, 2002, when we said our final goodbye
to Benji.

Over the next year we thought of him often and
wondered how he was doing and if he ever thought
about us. The biggest fear was that he might try
and run away again to find his way home. We
could only hope that he was fine and adjusting
well in his new surroundings.

Just before Christmas 2003 I was invited to a
"Candle Party" given by one of the techs at my
vet's office. I usually don't attend these
functions because I end up spending way too much
money. For some reason, something inside of me
was telling me I should go to this party. Even
John kept telling me I should go, which is not
normal either. So this particular Sunday
afternoon, I attended the party.

There were about 6 or 7 of us at the party,
sitting around the table clucking like a bunch of
hens. The subject eventually turned to animals
and life at the veterinarian's office. The girl who
worked at the clinic starting speaking about the
"poor little dog who was brutally torn apart by
three large stray dogs that were roaming around
in his neighborhood." His owners just happened to
take him to my vet's office because apparently
they never had a vet in their new neighborhood.
Benji hadn't been to a vet since we took him in
1997. The conversation continued and she told
about this poor dog actually "dying" twice on the
operating table. My vet was able to resuscitate
him each time. I listened to the story with great
interest, wondering how this dog's owners could
let this happen -- keeping him tied outside with no
means of defending himself.

Then, as we were talking about the incident, the
little dog's name was mentioned -- SHAFT. My
heart skipped a beat, and I stopped the
conversation and started asking questions. What
did the dog look like, the owner's name, etc.
After all, how many dogs are there named
SHAFT? Sure enough, it was my Benji and it
suddenly became clear why I decided to go to
that party. It was meant to be.

Sharon (the tech) had a key to the vet's office
and it was her turn to check on the animals that
Sunday. I called John and told him what had
happened. We all immediately headed for the
clinic. My heart just broke when I saw him. All
his hair had to be shaved off and there was not
one square inch of his body that wasn't stitched
up. There were deep puncture wounds all over
him. In spite of this and in spite of the severe
pain he was in, he opened his eyes, looked at us,
and wagged his tail.

We visited Benji at the clinic every day. He got
stronger and regained the will to live. At first we
had to hand feed him, but later he started eating
on his own again. After about 10 days, he was
well enough to return home on the condition that
he be kept indoors. We told the vet to speak to
his owners and tell them we would take him, but
they still didn't want to give him up. So, once
again we were separated.

Benji had to go to the vet's for periodic checkups
after the attack, and I would always receive
progress reports on him. He was healing nicely,
but it was discovered that he had an active case
of heartworm. He had never received heartworm
preventative medication. So once again, his life
was in danger.

The weeks since he was attacked turned to
months, and again we lost touch. Then on May 2,
2004, there was a knock at the door late at night.
It was Shaft's owners. They told us they were in
the old neighborhood visiting friends and decided
that they would stop by and ask us if we were
still interested in providing a home for Shaft.
Keeping him indoors was hard because they were
gone so much of the time and had to find a "dog
sitter". They finally came to the conclusion that
he would be better off with us where he would
have playmates and a fenced yard to play in. We
were overjoyed and agreed to take him.

They dropped him off at our vet's office the
following Tuesday. He was given his shots and a
checkup, and we picked him up Tuesday night. On
Thursday, he received his heartworm treatment as
the first step to curing this disease.

Shaft's name has officially been changed to Benji.
He is very happy to finally be living with us
permanently after seven long years of waiting.
We are very happy knowing he will never have to
leave us again. He will always have scars on his
body from the attack last December, but those
scars will be a reminder to all of how Benji finally
came home for good.