It was a lab mix sooner puppy. She was certain it needed to go home with us. In a weak moment, I agreed.
We named her Okie for the Sooner state-- her being a sooner and all and us as well.
The trouble started immediately.
The dog howled through the night for nights on end.
What mischief it could not find it made.
I thought to enjoy its company as I unpacked boxes and got us settled into the new house but I seemed to spend more time picked up and cleaning up after the puppy than anything else.
I bought a crate and a training book. I put both to immediate use.
The puppy was so unhappy with being in the crate that it bloodied its paws scratching to get out. The vet patched it up and said the puppy seemed to have an attachment disorder. He said it was overly attached to me. Egads.
I told the baby daughter that it was time she took over the care of "her" pet. I have blogged before about how that has worked out for me whenever I have tried to make this happen.
The trouble continued and grew as the puppy did.
We got a pen for the yard so that she would not drown.
That's where she almost had a heat stroke when during a church event held at our house her stayed out of the shade; barking at the youth who attended.
When she started running toward the street every time we let her out of the pen, something had to give. Because the puppy had attached itself to the stone mason, who had spent more than a little time outside at our home doing rock and brick work, and his son/apprentice and because they lived on a huge farm, we were persuaded to let her go live with them.
We had only recently lost Disney to the roadway. None of us were in any mood to lose another pet in the same way.
Little did we know...
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