Saturday, April 10, 2010
I have a dog. It all happened so fast, and went like this:
My room mate Ryan was walking to/from work downtown, and he saw this tiny, skin and bones puppy running through a courtyard. He tried to approach him, but the dog kept getting scared and running off. Eventually, Ryan cornered him, and the dog curled up in a ball. Once Ryan picked him up, however, the dog became really docile and friendly. Ryan could see that he had some injuries and, as stated before, was really malnourished. In a moment of compassion, Ryan carried him to his truck, and took him home. Once I got home, Ryan said something to the effect of, "do you want to take care of him?" To which I replied, after some deliberation, "Yes. Yes, I do."
And just like that, I've got a puppy. He's beautiful. We deduced that he is some kind of Bull-hound mix, and right around the 2-3 month old range. Given the breed, the area where the dog was roaming, and his general skiddish-ness, its obvious to us that he is the victim of neglect, and possibly some abuse. We figure that he's been in at least a few fights as well, as he hasn't reacted very well to Aeneas, the lovable but intellectually-not-all-there American Bulldog that Ryan has been raising for the last year. I'm pretty sure that tolerance will come with time, as he eventually realizes that he doesn't have to fight any more. He'll be going to the vet next week for shots, etc. I need to come up with something to name him. Any internet bound ideas? He's from the streets, so I'm thinking something thuggish, but he's also really sweet, so maybe we could go that way as well. Anyway, more on all of this later. Good things. And, pictures:
...and more on flickr.