First, my apologies for my lack of comments lately. My computer is at the tail end of its death spiral; it's been a long, sad goodbye, but I've finally started pricing out new ones. (eek!) I'm still thinking of all of ya'll each day.
So did I mention before my penchant for collecting stray animals?
I was at a stoplight last week, when out in front of me and into traffic darted two large rat-like creatures. I looked around and whistled for about 1.2 seconds (not my problem, not my problem, not my problem) before I hit my hazard lights and hopped out of the car. "They'll bolt", I thought, "as soon as I get out". Instead they scurried to me and snuggled down into my lap.
"Won't have them long," I thought, "Surely someone has reported these collar-less chuiaia mixes missing". Not so much. "Are you sure"? I asked animal control and 911 the next day, on my third call to them. "We'll call you if someone contacts us". And I've got some oceanfront property to sell you in Arizona.
My attempts at knocking on doors in the neighborhood where I found them yielded no results, except someone telling me that he didn't like Jehovah Witnesses. I started to explain, but just stopped. I had two more dogs to go home and feed and try to pawn off on my network of friends.
Two days later, the male mix wriggled under my fence and off to greener pastures. "So you're reporting a stray dog missing", verified the 911 operator as I drove up and down the street looking for him. "Yes. Is that odd"? "We'll contact you if someone turns him in", as he said that he sneezed, but I'm pretty sure he was repressing laughter.
I looked down at the remaining shaking dog...she hadn't quit quivering since she arrived. Big A was coming home in two days. Desperation started to creep in as I tried to think of something to do with her.
I thought of all of the strays I'd brought home as a child. "If we keep this thing, that's it, I'm moving out and you and the kids and the animals can just have the house", was my dad's standard line. I'm not sure how many hours of my youth I devoted to mentally decorating the walls of his shack in the woods, but it was many, my mothers picture square in the middle of the wall, portraits of us children placed in a perfect circle pattern around it. His curtains were sunshine yellow and he had to pump water and heat it on the stove to bathe, but he was happy and comfortable there and enjoyed the holidays that he came to share with us.
So, we have a new dog. Her name is Lucky. She behaved like a champ at our local pet store as we selected her collar, cage, dog bed, etc. Jesse and Buddie openly accepted her; I'm sure they remember their desperation days before they landed in my home.
And guess what? Lucky quit shaking and quivering, just like that, when we slipped her collar on. "It's like she knows that she's OK", said Big A.
Yes, it's like she does, little girl.
Happy New Year.
**Update: The Stray formerly known as Lucky is now Paco.