Well, if all goes well, I’ll be picking this little guy up from the shelter on Wednesday and bringing him home.
At the moment he’s just referred to as “Little Dude,” because, being a Californian, I call everyone “dude” and they needed a name to put on the file–all he had was a number–and since I’d already called him “dude” the shelter folks also called him “dude.” I said we could call him “Lebowski” instead, but the lady behind the counter said she couldn’t spell Lebowski. So… until he’s here, I guess he’s… “Little Dude.”
He was born in a foster home when his pregnant mom–black lab or lab mix–was found on the street (daddy was a fence-jumper.) They kept her until the puppies were weaned this weekend, but her owner did actually turn up to reclaim her. He just couldn’t afford to take on the five puppies (four female and the one male) as well. I happened to be in the shelter this morning asking about another dog and saw the pups. So I asked and the clerk said they’d only just brought them in a couple of hours earlier. If I wanted one, I’d better speak up now, because they were so cute. So I asked to hold the male puppy and before I knew it… I was saying “I guess I’m taking him home.” And Bella had better like him or there will be words, because one doesn’t return family members to the pound.