Well, it turns out that Mr. Bonapup does not have a chip. Honestly though, I’m not surprised- he didn’t have a collar either (when I found him). The posters are still up, but no calls. I’ve also been scanning the paper, but all the adds are for lost Chihuahuas (the rattiest of the rat dgs).
I plan on waiting a few more days, then I’ll take him to the vet for a checkup and some shots. Next, we will enter the de-stanking of the dog phase, so I’ll take him to the groomer. I plan on getting him bows. What? They’ll be blue! This isn’t my fault, I’ve never had a little dog before!
Anywho, Toby seems to be warming up to Napoleon, little by little. I’ve notied that Toby doesn’t hiss and him anymore and he even lets Napoleon lay (sort of) next to him. I’ve yet to try to have the dogs (all three of them) meet up again- I’m afraid that I’ll give the little 'un a heart attack.
Napoleon also insists on snuggling next to me while I sleep, which angers Toby (after all, that is TOBY’S spot, not Napoleon’s). So what usually ends up happening is that I have a little dog snuggled up to my side and a big, orange cat laying on my face. Good times :).
All in all, things are good. When I get home from work, I’ll try to post a few more pictures.
awwww…not the bows!! whatever happened to doggie dignity? he’s been smellified by victoria’s secret scent and now you’re getting him all gussied up like a tramp??
i kind…kind of…besides, beds are warmer with more animals in em. thats why we have beds, ya know…for the aminals.
(insert clamoring for more pictures)
I’ve never had a little dog that I can dress up, though! I mean, we used to dress our great dane, Scooby, and dress him in people clothes (boxers were great, you just put them on backwards so his tail could go through the pee hole). . . but it just isn’t the same!
My oldest dog, Bean (who was Queen Victoria in a former life) immediately begins to tear off any bows the groomer attatched when she gets home. When they’re off, she shreds them, to indicate her complete disgust with the whole matter.
My youngest, Sirius, seems to like to get gussied up. He’ll even bring me his little coat sometimes. Hubby insists that he must be embarassed to be seen by other dogs in his adorable little sweaters, but I call that anthropromophizing.
You’re done for, DiosaBellissima. Now you’re hooked on the fun that is small dogs. Small dogs are just dawrgs, not some sort of detestable vermin like some folks would have you believe. There’s nothing like 'em for snuggling with on the sofa or bed, despite what Toby says.
It was the aforementioned pomeranian episode in 1987 that got me to thinking that I’d like to buy myself a small dog. My family had owned little dogs when I was a kid, and I had forgotten how nice it was to hold one on my lap. That little pom was very sweet and cuddly; I held out for a month or two, and then went and got my first pug. My original username here was pugluvr, BTW. I’ve no pugs now, but that little goober you found sure makes me want another one.
I’m no little dog fan, but I do love little, black pugs more than anything in the world. I always keep an eye out for the little guys when I’m at the SPCA. I mean, they’re so ugly that they are cute!
Unfortunately, I already get the looks when I’m walking Napoleon. Twenty year old girl, dressed like a 20 year old girl, with the makeup and hair of a 20 year old girl, little purses, and now the little white foofoo dog. I hate people thinking that I’ve got the little guy just because he’s trendy. Then again, fuck everybody :).
Don’t let little dogs fool you. They can be damned tough little buggers. My grandparents had a little Yorkie named Jennifer when I was a kid. That dog was the runt of her litter-according to my dad, when she first came to them, she could literally fit inside a coffee mug. But she used to catch and kill rats. Not mice, rats.
And she was the sweetest, most well-behaved dog in the world.
Sad news: this morning I put Napoleon in the back yard to do his morning business. When I came back a few minutes later he was gone. I can’t figure out where he might have escaped from, but he must have.
I drove around the neighborhood for about an hour looking for him, but to no avail. The thing is, he isn’t fixed and was humping every furry white thing in my house-- so I’m thinking that some dog is in heat (which would also explain why he got out in the first place).
I’m going to keep an eye out for him, for signs, and for news paper articles. The day after tomorrow, I’ll head over to the SPCA and pound to give a quick check. After all, I’d hate for the little guy to go through a bunch of trauma. . . again.
Hopefully, I’ll pull up to my house and find the little guy laying there, but I don’t think that’s too reasonable. All I can do is hope that someone else that is nice found him
