For the past few days we’ve been watching our friend’s dog. And for the past few days our dog has been exhausted by the middle of the day.
Every reason we have come up with for not getting another dog seems to be receiving an equally compelling argument to go to the humane society and find one. When my sister couldn’t care for her dog any longer we had originally offered to take him in but had concerns about the impending vet bills of two dogs when neither of us are employed. Funnily enough, my cousin overruled his mother and kept him. He’d probably be a better fit with their family anyway, as he’s too sweet of a dog and we really need a dominant male to put our bitch in her place. I can say bitch because, well, she is one.
Rufus may be a small dog (he doesn’t even reach our Lucy’s elbows) but they are equally dominant making for an even playing field, possibly because they are both spoiled little brats as most only children are. I did say MOST so please, no nasty comments from all you perfectly acceptable single kiddos out there, okay? The only issue we’ve had with Rufus is that he isn’t very fond of cats, and our almost twelve year old calico, Tuesday, isn’t fond of anything but food. Needless to say, we’ve had to keep them separated.
I find it humorous how sweet and cuddly Rufus is and how Lucy, normally quite jealous of anything receiving more attention than she does, including laundry, doesn’t seem to mind. Perhaps it is because she is getting older and less anxious. Or perhaps it is because this little ball of energy wears her out and she simply can’t summon the oomph to protest. Whatever it is, I find it refreshing.
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