Before I put it off any longer, an introduction to the hooligans in my house and some of their backgrounds, just because. Seems like a good enough way to pass a rainy afternoon.
Desmond came first, showing up as a ragged-looking stray when I was seventeen, just a few days before I was scheduled for lung surgery. He made for a good distraction beforehand and good company afterwards, and after no one called to claim him, I just never got around to finding him a new home.
The second addition was Napoleon, about a year later. I was still living at home, and at that time, volunteering at the shelter near my parents’ house when I wasn’t working. One of the officers, knowing my soft spot for pit bulls, told me there was something I “had” to see, and led me to the back of the building, where the puppies were kept for isolation. She opened a tiny cage and pulled out an even tinier puppy with huge brown eyes and ragged home-cropped ears. I swore he would just be a foster…um, right.
Third was Louis. Part of a neglect case, he was the only one that presa rescue refused to take, due to hip dysplasia (which has since mostly corrected itself). I had been wanting a presa for years, one of those “when I grow up” kind of deals, and being only a few days away from moving into a new apartment, I certainly wasn’t going to mind the extra security. Besides, he looked like a giant version of Napoleon. So he joined and now makes up the second half of the Brindle Brothers.
And most recently (as in, a few weeks ago), Hayden joined the crew. I went back to the same shelter but with absolutely no intention of getting another dog that day. (I know, I know, that’s what everyone says…however, I’ve been going in and out of shelters for the better part of six years, and am not usually given to impulse-rescuing!).
I was going to look at a few of the shelter’s German Shepherds; specifically, I was looking for a dog I could work with in advanced obedience or agility. In my mind, that meant a confident dog, preferably off of working lines, with a decent ball-drive. They’re not that hard to find in shelters around here if you know where to look, most being too hyper and/or intelligent for most people to handle once they get past the cute puppy stage.
Of course, all of that careful planning of what I wanted, and what I chose was a submissive, under-confident American/German line dog with ZERO drive for anything, be it toys, treats, whatever. Real competition material, for sure. But his personality rocks, and it just felt right.
So those are the resident ruffians, excluding the four pet rats who I haven’t gotten around to photographing yet…something else for another post, another day.
Told ya it’s a zoo!
