ancient mariner
Member
My husband, Old Mack, was spending more and more time in his man cave, sometimes even falling asleep in there, which left me alone at the other end of the house. I would often hear noises at night and run out through the utility room and find his door locked.
So I told him I wanted a watch dog. We scoured the papers, craigslist, websites, rescue shelters, until I saw a picture of a sweet looking tan and black hound dog sitting in a child's swimming pool with a tennis ball in his mouth. He was a rescue dog at the SPCA.
We drove out there the next day and waited at the gate. I was not going to let this one get away. We went in and asked for Hank. We got a "look." I looked at Old Mack. We were told to wait where we were. About half an hour later we were escorted to an enclosed area with artificial turf, a child's swimming pool, and an assortment of dog toys, and a whirling dervish named Hank dashing madly from one end of the enclosure to the other.
A muscular , tatooed young woman had a leash in her hands and was speaking to us, but she could not be heard over the din of the barking Hank. I sat on a bench and waited. Finally, it stopped long enough to get a look at it. It was too cute for words, with one ear tilted up and the other down, looking like an innocent creature. I said "I don't think he likes his name.'' I called "Buddy" and he came over and sat by my feet. "
I'll take him." He's been with us for about 2 weeks. I have no more throw pillows left in the living room, there is a hole in the quilt on my bed, shoes are now on the top shelf in the closet, there's a swimming pool in the backyard just like the one he had at the shelter, the backyard is like a mine field, what with the toys, and the holes.
He terrorizes the cat, but I think she secretly enjoys taunting him. He teases the neighbor's German Shepherd until the poor guy barks to be left alone and his owner comes out and yells at him to "Be quiet." He gets into mischieve just to hear me say " Do you want to go into your crate?" and then he runs around trying to get me to chase him. He tosses his own toys into the air and catches them. He eats anything and everything. He's hardly any work at all. He wears himself out and meekly drags his butt into the house and plops down in his padded cell and falls asleep. He still hasn't told me his name.
So I told him I wanted a watch dog. We scoured the papers, craigslist, websites, rescue shelters, until I saw a picture of a sweet looking tan and black hound dog sitting in a child's swimming pool with a tennis ball in his mouth. He was a rescue dog at the SPCA.
We drove out there the next day and waited at the gate. I was not going to let this one get away. We went in and asked for Hank. We got a "look." I looked at Old Mack. We were told to wait where we were. About half an hour later we were escorted to an enclosed area with artificial turf, a child's swimming pool, and an assortment of dog toys, and a whirling dervish named Hank dashing madly from one end of the enclosure to the other.
A muscular , tatooed young woman had a leash in her hands and was speaking to us, but she could not be heard over the din of the barking Hank. I sat on a bench and waited. Finally, it stopped long enough to get a look at it. It was too cute for words, with one ear tilted up and the other down, looking like an innocent creature. I said "I don't think he likes his name.'' I called "Buddy" and he came over and sat by my feet. "
I'll take him." He's been with us for about 2 weeks. I have no more throw pillows left in the living room, there is a hole in the quilt on my bed, shoes are now on the top shelf in the closet, there's a swimming pool in the backyard just like the one he had at the shelter, the backyard is like a mine field, what with the toys, and the holes.
He terrorizes the cat, but I think she secretly enjoys taunting him. He teases the neighbor's German Shepherd until the poor guy barks to be left alone and his owner comes out and yells at him to "Be quiet." He gets into mischieve just to hear me say " Do you want to go into your crate?" and then he runs around trying to get me to chase him. He tosses his own toys into the air and catches them. He eats anything and everything. He's hardly any work at all. He wears himself out and meekly drags his butt into the house and plops down in his padded cell and falls asleep. He still hasn't told me his name.
