Here’s the story..
A couple weeks or so we had a hobo dog show up on the place. Looking for a hand out.
She certainly got one. Ate all the garage cats food. Ate and grazed around the burn pit, was working on whatever’s was under the bird feeder when we finally just gave her a big bowl of dog food.
The Chihuahuas were not amused by this eventuality. In fact they were very noisy about it. Rosasharn(yep, I name them almost immediately) she would just lift an eyebrow and keep on munching. Bayliss was interested but kept well back.
I was looking her over sitting on the deck. Quite pregnant. Of course. She was dumped.
Other than that she was in good mettle. Just hungry. No collar.
I told Son-of-a-wrek “we gotta do something”.
He says, no worries Ma, I already got a plan. Oh no. This is a worry.
I had a place to go. I told him handle it.
And walked away, a bit concerned.
I get back and no Rosasharn. Oh good Son has taken care of it.
I asked him did you take her to the shelter?
No. He had driven around this end of the county, asking homeowners and farmers was this their red dog.
No one claimed her. She didn’t seem to recognize anyone. She just seemed happy to be riding around with Son and Bayliss.
He goes to cafe and hollers at his friend to get him a large coffee to-go and bring it out he couldn’t leave the dogs in the parking lot.
Instead a waitress they know brought his coffee out and asked “what-up?”
He explained he was looking for Rosasharn’s home.
Lady looked at the dog and said “I know that dog. It belongs to a man across the street from me. If you wait I’ll be off my shift and I’ll take her home.”
Son was very happy to let her do just that.
The End.
Not. so. fast.
Few days pass and Son happened into the cafe. Waitress tells him she had been wrong. Wasn’t her neighbors dog after all. She took it to the kill shelter.
Son tells me. I give him the debit card and tell him go bail her out and take her to the good shelter. (I know the people, they’ll take care of it for us).
Rosasharn needs a chance. I believe.
A week passes. This morning I have a message from the shelter. Rosasharn is about half through her pregnancy. Full of puppies. They counted 6.
They need a foster for her.
Get her through the pregnancy the pups get almost adoptable age and they go back to be given forever homes. Rosasharn gets spayed and all vetted and cleaned up and they try to place her. She’ll live at the shelter til that happens.
She’s a cute dog. Red fur, little bit of white. Outlined in black. Medium sized terrier type. I saw Rat terrier/Jack Russell in her. Feist, is what they call it around here.
I determined they are asking me if I would take her in. They know my condition and my situation with my pets.
OTOH..we could do it. I have lotsa help. We all love doggies. I think my dogs would accept her.
The Siamese? well…pfftt. they don’t like nuthin’
The garage cats are ok with about anything.
The grandkids would love puppies coming. Oh my!
I just don’t know.
I’ll pose it to the family this evening. Ask Bayliss.
We’ll take a vote.
I text back my shelter friend and told her make sure Rosasharn has all her vax and is on flea and tick pill/stuff.
Oh jeez.
Did I just accept the challenge?
