Dogs Gone | Dogs Found

W must be in some strange canine vortex this weekend.  Over this past week, my daughter was on vacation.  We took care of her English Setter/Hound Mix.  She came back on Friday, and whisked Blaze away.  We love him, but he is the wildest boy.  I have bruises from his sharp bony body careening into me.  Plus, he sleeps in the bed with them.  He's not amenable to NOT sleeping in the bed with us.  We let him, only to ease his anxiety.  We didn't get a decent night's sleep Sun - Th. 

Today, husbando is going to Home Depot.  He is going the back way.  Cars are flashing lights, and there is this young pit bull running up, desperately to every car.  No collar.  Husbando calls and says that he is coming back.  "Bring him on," I say as I go to my dog rescue stash looking for a collar to fit and a sturdy lead.  Who is to know his temperament?

Husbando arrives home, and we get a collar secured and a lead.  He is a young, intact male. We bring him in.  Introduce him to the girls...who are glad to be done with the last interloper.  He's all tail wags and kisses, except Daisy is not too interested in kisses.  Ella skulks about.  Angel is intensely interested.

He needs water, and we give it to him.  Every step is a splotchy blood mark on the white ceramic kitchen floor.  (Trust me that any white flooring in the kitchen is a large, regrettable mistake).  His pads are bleeding.  It appears that he has been running on the road.  Three of his four feet have damaged pads. "Let's give him a bath," I say. We take him upstairs to the bathroom with a spray shower.  It's the easiest way to get him clean-body and feet.

He is a willing and sweet bathing victim.  He really enjoys (like most dogs) the vigorous dry off.  We tie him the the banister so that if a cat comes by s/he is not an unwitting snack.  I go about processing the hot pepper relish.  Yesterday I picked, ground and salted the peppers.  They were in a pot of vinegar and sugar simmering when I get a phone call.  I don't recognized the name on the caller ID.  Is it possible that already somebody is calling me about this found dog?

"This is G. V.  I have your dog Greta." dog Greta is actually Daisy with Greta's stainless tag.  "I couldn't get the other one, she wouldn't come to me."  In the course of an hour, Daisy and Ella had traveled through the woods (I'm unclear in search of what), and wandered as the crow flies into this man's yard. 

I went to pick them up.  He was a lovely man.  He recently lost his Golden Retriever to cancer.  I thanked him for his kindness.  Thank goodness Daisy had a tag (even if her name is not Greta!).  Ella's tag was missing--the fastener was there but not her tag.  I've got that remedied.

This little, wayward, pitty boy, he's unbelievably sweet.  It is the nature of that breed.  He has no aggression toward other dogs.  I've not seen a cat yet--not sure how the cat thing is going to go.  Minnah made her way down the steps.  His level of interest was high, and the cat skidaddled (a quiet and dignified retreat).  I had him firmly in hand, and he did not give chase.  He is still going to guilty until proven innocent.

He appears to have had a leather collar--at least underneath his neck has brown stain, which could be leather. I'm hoping that his pads are not injured due to his being dumped and his sprinting after the car that sped away.  I'm hoping that he just got a whiff of a dog in heat and made an escape.  Mark was in the right place at the right time.  Another one of those time-space intersects that changes the course of events of lives.


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