A little background: eight years ago, before kids, we thought of getting a dog. An Old English Sheepdog would be perfect, we thought. So we found a rescue organization, and who would know, they had a dog needing adoption! We drove across the state to get him. After a three hour drive home, the big fellow needed a walk, so I took that on. Sort of. More like he took me for a walk. Long story short, the guy was still a puppy, just over a year and was already huge. Too much to handle even had he been a good dog. But he wasn't. He growled at us, didn't listen, showed his teeth. We drove another three hours to take him back and discovered he'd bitten the breeder's spouse.
So, in bringing Fisher home, I think we were still a little traumatized. All day I've been wondering when the shoe would fall. When is he going to snap or growl or poop on the floor? When is he going to jump up on the counter and steal dinner or knock someone over or even bark? When is he going to start being Bad?
You know what? I don't think he's going to. I think he's just a sweet, wonderful, great dog! Here are some more pictures. Amazingly, Mud Pie quit screaming and running away from him in less than a day.
No comments:
Post a Comment