Grace and I have been thinking of getting a dog for awhile. I’m at home most of the day with my writing, and we have a wonderful Spanish style courtyard where a fountain stands shaded beneath the canopy of a venerable mango tree. There are bushes aplenty, it’s all tightly fenced in, and is the haunt of a geriatric Daschund called Pablito who could use a little company.
So, pretty ideal. With two large parks close by, weather that just begs for you to be outside, and a mutual desire to adopt a shelter dog to bring home and take care of, we’ve simply been on the lookout, waiting for the right moment start searching–or for a dog to catch our attention.
Which happened last night. Grace decided to check an old email account on a whim, and saw a forward from a friend notifying her of a rescued dog. She opened it up, looked at the photograph, and immediately called me over. His name’s Simon, he’s around 2 or 3 years old, and is apparently incredibly timid and shy after a life of being chained outside and ignored by his owner.
We’ve been in touch with the pound, and are going over tonight at 7 to meet him. He’s had a long day already visiting the vet and the groomers. We’ve no idea how things will go, but as you can imagine, we’re excited. Here’s Simon’s photograph–doesn’t he look like he has fox blood in his ancestry?