A few weeks ago a friend of ours asked if we could "rehome" a pug. The little guy's family was moving out of state and they couldn't take him with them. After a discussion, and checking with our youngest to see if he wanted the responsibility of a new dog, we told the friend that yes, we would be interested in taking the pug.
And then we didn't hear anything from the owner for the next 3 weeks. We figured it was a no-go.
Last week, Friday I think it was, I got a phone call from the owner of that pug. He said that our names had been given to him by the family friend, and he wondered if we were still interested in taking and giving the little guy a forever home. I told him that I would talk to my husband and son, and then I would get back to him.
I didn't really want to take in another animal. Another dog. I'm perfectly happy with Miss Daisy Mae and Bridgie. Our family is pretty much complete. But. The man said that the pug was a two year old male, named Tucker, who was not potty trained, was not fixed, and had "behavioral problems". Ugh. And then he went on to tell me that the little dog was in the crate all night and in a kennel outside all day. He had gotten the dog for his teenage daughter, but she didn't interact with the pug at all. I told him that really wasn't fair to the dog to live that way. He said "I know."
So, I couldn't leave the little guy in those circumstances could I? And when I told Kev about it, he also couldn't leave the little guy in those circumstances. But the biggest deciding factor, was the look on my youngest's face when we asked him if he still wanted the pug. He did. Absolutely. For a teenager that is very hard to make happy, and rarely REALLY smiles, for the thought of getting the dog to put a big smile on his face is priceless.
So, yeah, we got Tucker. Ugh.
While Cameron is at school, guess who gets to take care of the big lug? Yep. Yours truly.
And this morning he has covered his crate with shit. Twice. I've taken him out and hosed him down. Twice.
I need a cigarette. I need some pizza. I need a Pepsi. |
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