When I told the miraculous Christmas story of how we rescued that little pup from the road, some of you asked about what happened next. Did we keep him or did we take him to the animal shelter? Did he get a name?
Even though we are full up with pups, of course we decided to just fold him into the dog pack and give him a forever home. The poor animal shelter here is overwhelmed with foundlings and surrendered dogs and dogs rescued from abusive situations. Most of them don't find a home, alas, and the hardworking shelter folks have terrible statistics to report about how many dogs and cats are put down every month.
We figured we could do better than that. After checking the lost and found ads in the paper and on Craigslist, we named him Dweezil, which goes well with our almost-fictional last name of Zee. We dug out a collar from our vast store of puppy stuff, and prepared to love him forever. He was such a little cuddler. We were getting ready to make an appointment with the vet for an exam, shots, and the Necessary Operation.
And then--he dug out of the yard and scampered down the road again, straight for the railroad tracks. Beez followed in the car and talked with people who had seen him and who had tried to catch him, with no luck. Those short little legs had hit the road again and that seemed to be that.
I struggled to make this fit into my Bluebirdian Philosophy, where everything always has a happy ending. I worried that he had a home somewhere and that we had just interrupted his journey. Yes, we worried and we paced and we called and we looked out the window and--there he was, hours later, attempting to dig his way back in.
He was exhausted and muddy and just wanted to cuddle and sleep. Later he woke to eat and to drink some water, then he was ready for more cuddling and sleeping.
Here's the thing: He did the same thing two more times--two more digging escapes and two more digging returns. We decided that he really did want to live with us, but just needed time to bond. Beez cemented around the most popular digging spots, and we kept a close eye on him, day after day. He snuggled, he made friends with Petey, and he bonded.
Here he is now. He loves us and we love him. He is finally allowed out in the fenced yard by himself and when he gets there, he does NOT head for the fence. He just waits for his best friend, Pete, and they chase each other around and around the yard, doing chest bumps. I tried to capture that for you, but the little guys were way too fast for me.
After the chest bumping subsides, they play tug of war with any old stick. I think our little Dweezil has chosen, and he has decided to stay with us.
By the way, he has been to our vet and the big news is that Dweezil is just a baby, only around 8 months old. Two other pups who seem to be the same age were found in our neighborhood on the same weekend; there is a little Dweezil twin up at the sad shelter. I think someone just dumped a litter, hoping that someone would find them and do the right thing.
I'm pretty sure we did the right thing for our little guy.