The heart of a dog, volume II.
I've been sitting on this for a while, but it was finally confirmed yesterday, and the event took place today.
A few months after Tai passed in January, Mom started talking about getting another dog. We discussed a few breeds--another Peke, Pug, French Bulldog--and she ultimately settled on a Pomeranian (of which I am VERY glad, because her second choice was a Doberman, and there is no way either one of us is prepared, mentally or physically, to cope with the energy and dominance of a Dobe). She wanted to purchase a puppy from a breeder, but I suggested adopting one from a shelter, both to avoid the long hard slag of puppyhood and for the chance to give a dog in need a good home. So we clicked on "Pomeranians" on Petfinder, and the very first local result was this little guy. (There was also a female available, and for a minute Mom considered adopting them both, but when we inquired about her the shelter said she had been microchipped and the owners claimed her, so, you know, good on that.) We went to the shelter last week and met him, just to make sure he wasn't incurably vicious or hyper or shy or possessive or any other potential temperament concern. He is none of the above, and is in fact a sparkling pixie of delight, so Mom applied for him, and after a week the shelter told her that she was approved to foster.
He's 8 lbs and three years old, and was found as a stray with heartworm, which makes him special needs. He went through the arduous heartworm treatment (seriously, I looked it up: it's incredibly dangerous and involves arsenic, so always use preventative, y'all), and is now officially clean, but he's still a bit frail and needs time to recover before he can be neutered, hence why Mom is technically fostering and not adopting yet: all animals must be spayed or neutered before they are permanently rehomed. The shelter folks also gave Mom some antibiotics (to be given twice a day until they run out) and joint supplements (to be given for the rest of his life, because heartworm can permanently weaken joints).
We took him home tonight, and he settled right in like he's been here his whole life, pouncing into his brand-new doggie bed and trotting at our heels. He's incredibly sweet and surprisingly quiet for a Pomeranian: he hasn't barked at all, and only whimpered once for about two seconds during the drive home. He'll probably get more vocal as he settles into the house. Percival met him at the baby gate (he's confined to the kitchen and bathroom until we're confident of his housebreaking, because he's an unknown quantity and small dogs often have issues), the new guy sniffed him, and Percy actually hissed and ran off. I hadn't even known Percy could do that! Elphaba stayed upstairs and presumably will live there for the foreseeable future.
As for his name...the shelter was calling him Saboo, but Mom and I agreed that name simply wouldn't do, and he was duly christened Mr. Darcy. I suspect that this Mr. Darcy will be significantly less reserved than his namesake.
A few months after Tai passed in January, Mom started talking about getting another dog. We discussed a few breeds--another Peke, Pug, French Bulldog--and she ultimately settled on a Pomeranian (of which I am VERY glad, because her second choice was a Doberman, and there is no way either one of us is prepared, mentally or physically, to cope with the energy and dominance of a Dobe). She wanted to purchase a puppy from a breeder, but I suggested adopting one from a shelter, both to avoid the long hard slag of puppyhood and for the chance to give a dog in need a good home. So we clicked on "Pomeranians" on Petfinder, and the very first local result was this little guy. (There was also a female available, and for a minute Mom considered adopting them both, but when we inquired about her the shelter said she had been microchipped and the owners claimed her, so, you know, good on that.) We went to the shelter last week and met him, just to make sure he wasn't incurably vicious or hyper or shy or possessive or any other potential temperament concern. He is none of the above, and is in fact a sparkling pixie of delight, so Mom applied for him, and after a week the shelter told her that she was approved to foster.
He's 8 lbs and three years old, and was found as a stray with heartworm, which makes him special needs. He went through the arduous heartworm treatment (seriously, I looked it up: it's incredibly dangerous and involves arsenic, so always use preventative, y'all), and is now officially clean, but he's still a bit frail and needs time to recover before he can be neutered, hence why Mom is technically fostering and not adopting yet: all animals must be spayed or neutered before they are permanently rehomed. The shelter folks also gave Mom some antibiotics (to be given twice a day until they run out) and joint supplements (to be given for the rest of his life, because heartworm can permanently weaken joints).
We took him home tonight, and he settled right in like he's been here his whole life, pouncing into his brand-new doggie bed and trotting at our heels. He's incredibly sweet and surprisingly quiet for a Pomeranian: he hasn't barked at all, and only whimpered once for about two seconds during the drive home. He'll probably get more vocal as he settles into the house. Percival met him at the baby gate (he's confined to the kitchen and bathroom until we're confident of his housebreaking, because he's an unknown quantity and small dogs often have issues), the new guy sniffed him, and Percy actually hissed and ran off. I hadn't even known Percy could do that! Elphaba stayed upstairs and presumably will live there for the foreseeable future.
As for his name...the shelter was calling him Saboo, but Mom and I agreed that name simply wouldn't do, and he was duly christened Mr. Darcy. I suspect that this Mr. Darcy will be significantly less reserved than his namesake.