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?  

Those horrid, evil chipmunks.

"I love you, KC.  

Every last week in May, we load up the suburban with golf clubs, luggage, three kids, two dogs and at least one box of Avon and hit the road to Michigan for the summer.  2011 was going to be different because we had just adopted Frank, so we would be traveling with three dogs instead of two.  Lilly and Daisy are old pros (other than Lilly gets car sick) and are excellent travelers so we were a little apprehensive about how Frank was going to travel.  Turns out, we had nothing to worry about, as long as he was next to KC, he was just fine.  Of course, after 34 hours of traveling, the adoration got a little annoying.

Damn you, chipmunks!

Frank spent most of the summer being tormented by the squirrels and chipmunks in our yard because he couldn't figure out how to get down those damn deck stairs to catch them!   He would sit as still as he could and watch their every tormenting move.  It soon came time for  KC to leave to go back to Arizona for a few weeks for work and Frank turned into the naughty demon dog from hell.  He would piddle in the house while looking right at me and then growl at me when I scolded him. When KC came back he turned into the angel dog again so I was accused of making things up when I would tell him what a stinker his little prince was while he was gone. 

Lil Bit

We sadly closed up the house and returned to Arizona just in time for school to start in the beginning of August.  I touched base with APR to let them know I was back and ready to foster and came home with a furry cock-a-poo girl named Lil Bit.  I know, I know, I wasn't crazy about the name either.  APR got her when her owner, who had had dementia, passed away, so it was the name she came with.  (Her future family would end up renaming her Sophie, a much better fit, in my opinion.)  Lil Bit was large and in charge and poor Frank didn't know what to make of it.  Fortunately, Lilly and Daisy are old and grumpy so nobody messes with them or face their wrath so Lil Bit soon learned to stay clear.  She had only been with us one short week before her forever family sent an email inquiring about her.  After we communicated back and forth, it was decided they would go on a trip they had planned in two weeks and then travel to Tucson from their home in Phoenix to meet her. Unfortunately, in those two weeks she charmed us all and I began creating different scenarios in my head about why she wasn't going to  work out with her new family; they wouldn't know that although she barked at strangers, she wasn't really mean, or that she only liked to snuggle on the couch for a little while before wanting to get down, or that when she paced back and forth at the kitchen counter and then sat patiently it meant she was waiting for a treat.  Of course, those thoughts were ridiculous but I was convinced I was sending her to live with a crotchety, retired couple who were going to think she barked too much and end up tying her up outside all day.  Fortunately, I never voiced these doubts out loud but I felt them in the pit of my stomach when we were driving to meet her potential new family.  We walked into Petsmart at the arranged time and when her new mom saw her trotting towards her, she exclaimed, "Oh, is that my dog?!" and immediately started crying tears of joy.  She hugged her and told her how pretty she was.  They carried her around the store in a cart and bought her all sorts of new things; collar, leash, bed, toys, treats, you name it.  They talked to the professionals at the store about proper nutrition and grooming.  They were going to spoil her rotten!  I was so happy for her and a little ashamed of myself for worrying.  Admittedly, her leaving was bittersweet.   Knowing this adorable little creature was going to be given a second chance and I got to play a part in it was an incredible feeling but I was going to miss her.  I cried a little when they walked out and she looked back at me but I knew she was going where she belonged and that now another dog would be able to get a second chance.

Pepper and his pal, Zippy

The next one that got another chance is asleep right now on my bed.  He stayed too long and there was just no way I could part with him, or his partner in crime.

More on that next time.