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The Little House Guest

Two days ago, while picking up a load of hay at our supplier, we met this little guy.


He scurried around so close to the tires of my truck that I was afraid I was going to run him right over.  As Kaylin and I loaded the bales into the trailer, he shadowed us from several feet away, his brown eyes warily trained on us.  As we worked he crept closer and closer.

Kaylin was able to get close enough to give a little scratch under his chin.  And that was it.  He followed her around while I paid for the hay, tied down the load, and talked to the guys about where he had come from.

Apparently, no one knew.  He just showed up at the yard, skinny, scrawny, full of fleas.  They were all concerned, as I was, that with all the heavy machinery, squeeze trucks, and big rigs coming through, not to mention the big, heavy bales of hay being tossed around, he was going to get hurt.

I really, really, really, didn't want to bring him home.  But he reminded me of Izzy the Stingy Dog so much that I didn't feel right leaving him behind.  I hemmed and hawed and all the while he sat, pressed up against Kaylin like a he was a magnet and she was the iron.

So I scooped him up and deposited him in the back seat of the truck.  He curled up in Kaylin's lap and slept the whole way home.

Biscuit checking out the yard.

It was after five o'clock when we got home, I still had hay to unload and stack, dinner to make and evening chores to do.  After a good feeding and water, we made sure Biscuit (as he was christened on the way home) was comfortable in a large crate with an old sheet.  First thing in the morning I'd find a no-kill shelter or rescue to take him and we'd all feel content having done our good deed.

Except... not one shelter in a one hundred mile radius will take the bugger!  I'm about ready to start calling shelters in contiguous states.

Apparently there is a glut of little chihuahua-type dogs in the all of the local shelters and rescues.  They're full.

After spending the majority of the day yesterday calling every possible shelter I could find, I grew desperate.  I sent a text message to everyone on my contact list begging for a home for this guy.  (If you got one of these from me, I apologize.  Like I said, I'm desperate.)

The good news is he's proved himself exceptionally good with the other animals here.  He doesn't pay much mind to the goats or the horses.  He doesn't chase Fluffy the Farm Cat.  He only tried to chase the chickens once (a big no-no at our place.  It's just about the worst doggie transgression there is.)  But he stopped at the sound of a firm voice.

Ignoring the goats.

He hasn't met my other dogs yet, though.  Izzy isn't very friendly towards other dogs.  She's pretty much the queen bee around here.  Biscuit may not make it out alive. 

Our neighbor used to volunteer for a local animal rescue.  He gave us a few suggestions, including fostering the dog as the rescue looks for a good placement.  That is an option I could probably live with.  I've put a call in to the rescue and am waiting a reply.

Don't ya want to keep me?  Don't ya, Mom?

Biscuit is cute, sweet, and desperately wants his own person.  I'm hoping we find that person for him.

Until then, it seems we're stuck with a little house guest.

Unless, that is, YOU want him!
       
  

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