So the whole Homer Affair was pretty awful. I won’t say it’s as bad as it gets, because my children are all alive and healthy, no one is starving, no one has been abducted into sexual slavery in Thailand. (my mind knows no limits when it comes to thinking up awful scenarios)
However, it was pretty awful nonetheless.
In response to it all, Terry (bless him) called the breeder we got Homer from (Porth Kennels, y’all… if you ever want a miniature dachshund GO THERE), the veterinarian where we got the Sentinel, and my father (a retired veterinarian), to let everyone know what happened.
I think I said that in the last post.
Anyway…Missy Porth, in an incredible act of generosity, offered us another puppy. Yesterday we made the drive to Lexington, SC and picked out Rusty, half brother to Homer.
If Homer was Homersaurus Rex, Rusty is a Rustyplodicus. Ok, no more comparisons.
Why did Terry name him Rusty? After his favorite race car driver, the now retired Rusty Wallace. Other names that were considered: Harry (he was Harry about for about an hour), and an assortment of Teutonic names like Beowulf, Otto, and Heinz. Thor was considered for about 30 seconds. I called him Grover once, when I couldn’t remember Rusty. I do that with everyone and every thing, having a terrible memory for names.
He and Terry watched the race last night. The dog sprawls. Back legs behind, forelegs to the side, belly flat on the cool floor. He nibbles, too. He ate kibbles like popcorn, watched the race, and WENT INTO THE YARD to do his business! none of this puppy “whatever wherever” stuff.
He is a POLITE litte fella. Terry put his bed on the floor next to ours last night, and threw a used t-shirt over him. He promptly went to sleep until about 2am, when Terry heard “um…excuse me please, I don’t mean to be a bother but I’m kind of lonely down here.” and he picked him up and Rusty mooched around on the bed for a few minutes, then snuggled in and went back to sleep. Terry put him back in his own bed, where he slept on until about 6, when he woke up, peed ON THE PAD NOT THE FLOOR (stunning!)and asked to get back in bed with us.
The 3 Old Maids seems to kinda sorta like him Ok, I guess. Even the cats aren’t acting like we’ve tried to introduce them to Beezelbub. No (ok not much) hissing, poofing of tails, or panicking.
And I am totally paranoid about putting him outside without me being there to watch closely. I haven’t figured out what to do this morning for church,but I’ll work something out.