About a month ago or so we were traveling on our errand day and saw a young dog wandering the streets in town. He looked lost, following anyone who did swat at him, or throw things at him. Ga and M went across the street to the Post Office, for Mom, and He sat right next to M while they waited to cross the street on their way back. M gave his head a little pat, then walked off towards the car. Neither child noticed the tag-along - who at the open door of the car just sat there looking at Mom as though to say, "Can't I come too?" So we brought him home. If nothing else we got him out of the street. So now, G-Man has his own dog. They named him Speckles, because he looks like a white canvas that someone threw black paint at.
A few weeks later, someone (knowing how much need to spend more money on dog food and such) dropped off another dog at our house. This one with a big hunk of flesh missing in between his shoulder blades. Muscles was glisening, and I tried to ascertain the damage and temperment of the dog. Sweet temperment, and someone had cleaned him up and stopped the blood flow long before dropping him off here. We did the best we could on such short notice and a triple dentist appointment to run to. Tied him out, treated the wound, fed him, and gave him water before we RAN to town.
While out and about the children, mainly G and M, were planning how to tell Daddy they have a new dog, even after Mom said, "HE is NOT ours!!". They had this long drawn out idea that they tried out on every cashier and adult they could find to listen. Everyone who listened thought it was a terrific idea, while Mom just shook her head and repeated, "no".
We got home 2 minutes before Daddy, and found the dog loose sniffing around at something. Worried about the chickens, because not many dogs can resist that particular temptation, I ran to grab and get him tied back up, when Daddy pulls in with a big frown on his face. Well, long story short within minutes we both agreed he wasn't ours, but had no idea what to do with him, so agreed it was best to care fofr him until some idea presented itself. However, the children had already named him by then : William Shakespeare. William because M thought it was a nice name for a dog, and Shakespeare because G is a big literature kid. That's their story anyway.
You see, there are no decent Humane Societies out here. There are few but they only do their thing inside city limits, where we are not. So these animals that show up on our porch, usually cats although the occassional goat does make an appearance, get cared for and some stay and some leave. Dogs are a different matter because of our free range chickens. So what else were we to do?
He's a big dog, houndish, with rotty colors. M loves him to death, and he's sweet one her...But...
A few days later, I looked out the window to find B taking a short break from work to play with the Shakespeare, or Shakes as he calls him now... He got him a chain to be tied to, a choke collar (he'll drag you across the yard), and a regular collar. Later as B was walking across the yard, Shakes was doing his best as flips and twirls, and barking his great big head off until B came over and petted him a bit. This behavior repeats itself whenever Shakes has the idea that B is in the yard, and B comes over to see him. They also spend a little time together before B goes to work...
So I think Shakes is here to stay. He is my husband's first dog. So today I got more dogfood.
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