We’ve begun to long for the pitter-patter of little feet – so we bought a dog. Well, it’s cheaper, and you get more feet. — Rita Rudner
We got a dog from a local rescue yesterday. If you were to ask me to describe him, I’d have to say “lethargic,” and maybe “sniffling.” Since these aren’t “personality traits” so much as “symptoms,” we had to take him to an emergency vet earlier today to treat the illnesses he didn’t exhibit until about 12 hours after we brought him home. He’s pumped full of antibiotics and he’ll be okay in a few days, but for now he wears the Cone of Shame — which is the ultimate humiliation for a new dog in a house with resident cats. Poor bastard.
Here’s how it goes when my husband or I try to walk him:
At this point, the pup’s showing no fear, no unhappiness; however, he’s also showing no desire to keep moving in any direction, no matter what we do.
Offer him a treat? He stands there.
Say, “Come!” He keeps standing there, looking at me.
Wave my arms excitedly, yell “Yay! Let’s go, boy!” and turn around as if I’m going to start running? He looks at me as if to say “Why yes, I’d love to continue standing here, thank you!”
At this point, I walk back over to him, pick him up, and carry him back into the house, thankful that it’s three in the morning so none of my neighbors are outside to see me put in my place by an 18-pound pet.
Anyway, where any other dog might be taken for a walk, I guess he’s taken for a stand.
So without further ado, I present Iggy the Wonder Schnauzer, on one of his stands.