Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Dogs Gone Wild

Once upon a time our neighbor's son decided he needed pets to keep him company. The old man had always had dogs, but the last one had died a few years before. So Son went to the animal shelter and picked two puppers off doggy death row: a charming yellow Lab/golden retriever/wire-hair mix and a beautiful, regal, ruling-the-world (even if she was on death row) pit bull.

Unfortunately, Son didn't ask Dad whether he wanted two puppies. (Dad didn't.) He just brought them out with a big bag of food, said, "Look what I got you," and hightailed it back to town.

Dad was slowing down. He was in his eighties, and instead of the mowing, gardening and other outdoor projects he'd always done, he'd taken to passing most of his time in a comfortable chair inside the house. He really didn't want puppies. He didn't even name them.

So boy Lab and girl pit ran wild around the hilltop. They came to our house every morning, looking pitiful and hungry, and we fed them. Then they went to our other neighbors' houses, we later learned, and chased their dogs away from their food and ate it, too. They might have come from different breeds, but boy Lab and girl pit were as tight as blood siblings could be. She led, and he followed, showering wiry yellow hair everywhere.
Chance, aka boy Lab
They got into the trash cans.

They dug in flower beds.

They chewed the wiring out of the neighbor's trailer.

They intimidated every dog on the hilltop.

They chewed the wiring out of the same neighbor's same trailer.

The neighbor complained, and Son decided Dad really meant it when he said he didn't want the dogs. They had to go.

I really, really wanted yellow Lab. He was the sweetest ball of fuzz you ever saw who only wanted food in his belly and someone nearby while he snoozed. I wanted him so much that I was willing to take the wild, regal, demanding pit to get him.

So Bob left a message for Son and got no response. Again. And again.

I left a message for Son and heard nothing back. Then, two days later, he showed up at our door with what was left of the bag of food and a container of cookies. "They're yours," he said, then left.

Notice he didn't have the puppers with him. They were running wild somewhere, getting into something, irritating someone. But we knew they would show up. After all, dinnertime was approaching, and they never missed dinner.

And that's how we wound up with Olivia and Chance.

{More next time.}


  1. I love this story. :) So fun. Only you would take in such wild puppers.

    1. If you could have seen the woebegone look on Chance's face . . . He used to come up to the back window and whine. Bob put his hand on the glass, and Chance would rub his head back and forth over the same patch of glass. He was pitiful!

      Someone said once we must emit pheromones that said, "Puppers welcome here, especially sick or incorrigible." :)

  2. No one should EVER get a pet for someone else without that person involved in process. And I included kids. Parents should let them pick the pet they want. The kid is then more invested in taking care of "their" pet.

    1. Isn't that truth? All our neighbor needed was someone to check in on him regularly (which everyone on the hilltop did). He certainly didn't need two puppies. Though it worked out wonderfully in the end, it wasn't a bright idea to start.

  3. I love this story, too. Olivia is my girl & she likes me. Wait.... They all like me.

    1. You're right -- they all love you, though Livy maye a little bit more. I think she recognizes a kindred spirit in you. :)