On my way home tonight, as I kept my ever vigilent watch for rogue deer lurking in ditches waiting to run in front of my car, a rogue miniature pincher actually did. Run in front of my car, that is. It didn’t lurk, it bounced. I stopped to make sure it was ok (I didn’t hit it). It was just sitting there, blocking the ENTIRE ROAD with its tiny body, until I opened my car door. Then it jumped like someone had stuck a hot poker up its…er…behind and sailed into my car. Right on top of the pizza box -which was, thankfully, closed. After doing my civic duty by stopping at random farm houses to ask if they knew to whom the dog might belong (they didn’t), I had to choose between leaving the creature by the side of the road or bringing him home. So, there you have it.
Wee Beastie is caged. While he gets along with Spike and Lucky, apparently he’s too proud to poop in the backyard like the other dogs. I got tired of following him around like some sort of lackey. Ads have been placed in the appropriate publications so that (hopefully!) someone will claim him. I don’t want another dog. Especially one that appears to think himself descended from doggie aristocracy. For now, we’re calling him Killer. Or Sir Killer, as he prefers. He appears to be mostly Miniature Pincher, with a touch of aristocratic something. He jumps like a Jack Russel. If he’s not claimed by Tuesday, he’s up for grabs. Any takers?
Still no home for this fella?
He’s back in his home. His owners saw the ads I put in the newspaper and on Craig’s List and picked him up. They were very happy!