We are dog people. Not that there’s anything wrong with cats, lizards, birds, or the occasional adolescent boy, but my trailer has always housed a dog or two.
We are also “dog rescue” people. Not rabid dog rescuers*, we always “find” dogs that need a place to be… For us, “two” was a good number of dogs. They had each other for company during the long work/school days.
After losing the last of our first pair of dogs, we acquired a black lab mutt**, Turbo, and planned to find her a suitable companion someday. We turned on our “doggie radar” when Turbo was about a year old, after surviving her ferocious “puppy-chews-through-household” phase***. About this time, there was a buzz throughout the neighborhood about a friendly, stray dog.
Being good citizens, my ex and i checked out the dog, looked for tags, and talked with neighbors to get the history. She’d been hanging around for a week, was friendly – following the neighborhood kids everywhere. We did a “parental pow wow”, and decided to contact appropriate agencies, list her in the “Found” classifieds ads to see if we could identify the proper owner – while taking her in, cleaning her up, and seeing how she’d get along with our primary mutt.
Oh, but first the naming! Considering that this Chow was covered in dried mud? “Krusty” it would be… Krusty got along fine with children and primary beast, but she demonstrated Houdini-like prowess at escaping the back yard fence. My ex and The Boy decided to install an “Invisible Fence”, and went to work. Soon after, we took her to the vet for shots and a general health assessment. And the “stray rescue train” derailed…