Brown dog, brown dog, what do you see?

We have a temporary visitor at our house.  I'm just calling him Brown Dog, although KC, Middle Kid and Dear Daughter have all named him (different names, I might add.)

A few weeks ago, I received a frantic phone call from a lady who had adopted one of my fosters; she had found a dog in a parking lot at the movie theater.  When she stopped to pick him up, a homeless couple came out of the shadows and said he'd been following them for days and handed her a leash and canned food (gee, that would explain why he'd been following them - more on that later.)  Not being able to keep him and not wanting him to go to Animal Control, she did the only thing she could think of, she called me.  I should mention at this point that I have agreed to help dogs in need in ways other than fostering.  We had started fostering again last fall and by January, I had failed AGAIN so I SWORE that I would take no more.  But in my defense, the new boy, Baxter, had been returned twice and can be a bit of a jerk but we think he's the cat's pajamas and the thought of him being returned a third time was more than any of us could bear.  He's actually KC's "2nd favorite, behind Frank."  Still, I was somewhat panicked at the thought of how KC was going to react when he came home to this little guy.  I should also mention Brown Dog is freaking adorable.  I greeted my husband at the door with, "It's only temporary - I promise!  There just needs to be a few adoptions so a space will open up for him at another foster's."  That was 10 days ago.  Since he's getting neutered tomorrow, I said we would keep him until he recovered.

Brown Dog adores Middle Kid, sleeps with him and charges at him full-speed when he gets home from work.  And because I raised Middle Kid right, he loves him back.  Still, I refuse to call the pup anything other than Brown Dog, despite the many names my family has christened him with (Hobo, Rufus, and Scooby.)  My girlfriend has taken to calling him Charlie, as in Charlie Brown (Dog), which is quite clever.  Baxter shadows him like he's going to steal the silver but the other dogs have accepted him as part of the pack and he fits in well, except at feeding time.  As I mentioned earlier, the homeless couple was feeding him canned food.  I have 6 permanent dogs, I do not have the money (or time) for canned food.  Still, my dogs act like they've won the lottery twice a day by howling and dancing when their bowls are being picked up to be filled with plain ol' dry food.  Brown Dog didn't buy the hype and would not even eat for the first day but realized by Day 2 at our house, that was the best he was getting.  He would, however, follow me until all the bowls were distributed, just to make sure I wasn't holding out on him.  I thought we had finally come to an understanding after he had been eating for a week straight but unfortunately, I was wrong,  The other morning, he followed me to the end of all the bowls being put down, took three bites of his food, then walked over to my curtain and peed - while looking right at me - as if to tell me how upset he was that CANNED FOOD IS FROWNED UPON IN THIS ESTABLISHMENT!  (That is an ETrade commercial reference, for those of you who are scratching your heads.)

Brown Dog is getting neutered tomorrow and I'm somewhat worried how he's going to express his displeasure with me about that.  I'm also a tiny bit worried how Middle Kid is going to handle it when he leaves.  I'm surprisingly okay at the thought of him going.  I'm comforted by the thought that he'll end up someplace where they will feed him canned food and give him a proper name.

Maybe not naming them is the key?