Stray

My son calls him Dog, because we don't know his name. My daughter calls him Blackie, becasue that's the color he is. My wife calls him Dude, because that's what she says when she's trying to get him to stop jumping on her. And I want to call him Ike, becasue that's what was on the news around the time that we found him.

Ok, I really don't want to call him anything. I want his owner to come get him.

I say we found him, but that would be inaccurate. My wife was at church on Wednesday. She is leading a Wednesday night dinner and short simple circle worship. I begged off, because I had too much work to do. When she was leaving, she saw this large black dog, and she was worried about it getting hit in the road. So she called and asked me if she could bring it home until we find the owner. I very reluctantly agreed.

Reluctantly, because we live about 25 miles away from the church. I didn't see how we would find the owner. He didn't have tags. We thought he might be chipped, but when my wife took him to the 24 hour vet hospital, no chip was found. We have a big enough yard, but our fence is crap. Keeping him out there the first day, he broke of some of the rotten boards, and got into a neighbor's yard. And from his behavior, I think he is used to being an indoor dog. That's pretty amazing for a dog that's probably close to 80 pounds, with a tail that is constantly swinging back and forth at about 50 miles an hour.

He's a great dog, from what I have seen so far, and I can't imagine that someone doesn't miss him terribly.




The above picture was taken right after Tammy gave the dog a bath.