If I were to harness the energy of this little guy, I could move constellations around the universe.
For years I maintained that on the day I retired, I would go down to the Humane Society and walk out with their oldest, ugliest, most cantankerous mutt – and I would have done that had my wife not heard from a cousin who was giving away puppies.
I told her it was a bad idea but she wouldn’t listen. “Let’s just go look at them,” she said, “it will be fun.”
I warned her. “Honey,” I said “there is no such thing as a resistible puppy. If we go there, we will come home with a dog.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said.
My wife is usually right – about everything but once in a while I am allowed to be right. This was one of those times.
No sooner had we pulled into the driveway than a tumbling, roiling, pack of puppies tripped over its ears scampering toward us. In an instant we were covered in dog spittle.
“So what kind of dog are they?” I asked the owner, worried about size and breeding.
He shrugged. “Whatever came over the fence, I suppose,” he said.
“What about the mother?” I asked.
He shrugged again. “Whatever came over the fence the last time.”
So with my pick of the litter, I chose the runt. He was a pug-faced ball of black fur with a two foot long tongue.
“Can’t have that one,” the owner said. “He’s ugly but the Mrs. loves him. He’s our keeper.”
So rising from the bottom of the heap, I chose the next runt, a cream colored bundle of energy. This one did things that are hard to explain. He was able to wag both his butt and his head in the same direction without any sign of counter-motion. I told my wife, that’s the dog for me.
The first thing he did when he got home was piddle on the rug. The next thing he did was chase the cats. The cats were not amused.
They still aren’t.
They do not blame Scooter for what he is, they blame me for bringing him into the household. The cats belong to my wife but they love me. No so anymore, which is fine by me. I am a dog person and now for a while, a puppy person.
Now I have a friend to walk with. A buddy who snuggles my feet when sit down by the pond to write and an alarm clock to wake me up several times a night. I swear, this puppy is the only critter in God’s creation who pees more than me.
12 thoughts on “Meet Scooter”
I still have the ability to go awwwww and resist puppies. Best line ever about peeing.
He’s adorable and would be the perfect antidote to blisters for pilgrims on the Camino.
Aww, I want one! Scooter is gorgeous! I read about your blog from Brews and Views.
Scooter is a bit bigger now, but as rambunctious as ever. We walk on the rural roads every day and every day I have to say, “Uh Scooter, that’s a horse apple you are carrying in your mouth.”
Glad you stopped by.
haha! He sounds like fun!
I’m a dog person too and have two! Love that little innocent looking Scooter!
Hopefully it won’t pee on your shoes. Or for that matter, barf in them like my cat did.
So when will Scooter meet Mischa?
The problem is that he pees with no discretion whereas you… Well, enjoy your little soilmate.
So now you have a friend to walk with and that poor corn field is going to be doubly blessed!
AH the joys of retirement! Sounds like it’s going well?
Scooter is a sweet looking pup, as all puppies are, and yes, they wiggle right into our lives and fast become our shadows and best friends, IF we can get past their toddler antics. It sounds as though you and Scooter will both be glad you were right this go-round.
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