We’ve had a “FOUND PUPPY” sign up out by the busy road for two weeks now. I’ve only received one phone call, from a woman who lost her little black pomeranian. “I’m not sure what this dog is, ma’am, but I can tell you for sure he’s not a pomeranian.”
I brought him inside on the first night and slept on the couch with him, since it was chilly and there were thunderstorms. I just didn’t feel right about letting the little guy stay outside by himself. Now he stays outside during the day, while we’re gone, but spends his evenings in the kitchen and sleeps inside, too.
He’s decided that since the rocking chair in the kitchen is where the people sits, he should sit there too. He can’t get up there himself, though, without a really gnarly climbing move in which he sticks his head through the arm of the chair and then sort of muscles his way up through the bars.
We’re trying hard to house train him, figuring that it’s something he needs to learn no matter where he ends up living. He understands that going potty in the front yard is a good thing. He hasn’t quite figured out that he should NOT go in the kitchen. We’re working on that part.
He’s a sweet puppy and I have to admit that Bryan and I are both getting a little attached to him. (Mandy says she’ll only like him if he learns to behave.) I don’t think he belongs anywhere. I hope we can find him a good home. We’d be awfully sad to have to take the little guy to the shelter.