Last year March 18th was on a Sunday. It was the day after the funeral for our dear neighbor and hubby and I were on our way to a client to do some server work while no one was in the office.
He and I were headed to the car when I see this little blob of brown fur sitting at the top of the driveway.
I immediately go into doggy alert. Hubby hadn't come through the gate behind me yet and waited to let me do my thing.
I got the little shivering terrified furball kind of trapped between our Buick and the pile of construction stuff at the side of the driveway while DH went and got a leash. I'm down on all fours at this point (this guy is LITTLE and I don't want to scare him) and he slowly hands me the leash.
The minute it's on this little guy, he's an entirely different dog. Happy, bouncing around, like someone flipped a switch letting him know everything is okay and he's with people that won't hurt him.
Well we still have to get to the clients so in the house and into the crate we have for Oscar he goes and off we go.
Later I take a picture and post flyers around the neighborhood and take him for a walk to see if he'll take me to his 'real' home. Little did I know, he'd already found it.
The next week is a week of craigslist ads and pressdemo ads and petco flyers and filling out found dog reports at the local shelters and putting the word out that we have a little guy that might need a new home. We already have two dogs after all. I got heartbreaking phone calls from people looking for their own dog or puppy.
It's also a week of IM conversations with DH like the following:
DH: Guess what?
DH: He plays fetch.
Me: Oh boy.
Couple of days later
DH: He likes the water.
Me: Excuse me?
DH: He likes the water.
Me: How do you know he likes the water?
DH: I threw the ball in the pond
Me: Oh boy.
The next weekend still no real bites on the search for his home and I tell hubby I cannot take him to the shelter. Hubby agrees that we can keep him till we decide if we are keeping him or we find him a new home. Again, little did we know.
He went through three names those first two weeks:
- Ranger ("I want to be an airborne ranger")
- Rocket (the little bugger just flies after tennis balls)
- landing finally on Scrat (him with a tennis ball is Scrat from Ice Age with an acorn - he even makes the same noises) when we decided to keep him for good.
He is my husband's dog, and hubby hasn't ever been a dog person. Till now. Scrat is his joy and his playmate and his snuggle dude.
They love to play. Scrat loves tennis balls and playing throw more than fetch and he'll ride on the jetskis with the wind in his face.
He has two speeds 0 and 60 and alternates between the two faster then a pretty little Lamborghini.
He's excited about everything and anything you want to try to do with him. He'll sit and wait or sleep while waiting for the next great thing to happen.
He cannot help but bring a smile to your face with his expression of pure joy.
Even if he still has the occasional accident in the house (thankfully NOT on the carpet anymore), he's learning and he's come a long way.
He goes by many monikers:
- Scrat the Gnat - he has the attention span of one after all
- Scrat Monster
- Scrat the Brat
- Little Brown Dog
- Little Dude
While Cliff the Mutt is and always will be 'My Boy' and Oscar the Dog is my satellite, Scrat the Brat is our joy.
I don't know what fates led him to our driveway, but I'm very glad they did.
Happy Birthday Little Dude.
You'll live to see more if you stop going on walkabout at 7:30 in the morning when Mom's already running late. ::wink::