Innocently enough my friend Mary sent an email at the request of someone she knew. This guy rescued, from the middle of the road, a crate full of black lab mix puppies. The picture was attached and they looked delightful. The were fresh-faced, with a patch of white fur on their cute little black bodies. Every one of them stared right at me wondering if I would not like to take one of them home.
If you read the previous post you'll know that although we own a dog, at this particular moment he is old, and the children just step over him as he lays around the house. He no longer curls up next to me on the couch, or "speaks" when I give him the command, and, I am sorry to report, doesn't have puppy breath.
After viewing the photo and reading the attached email I forwarded it to my husband inserting the word, "welllll?"
Here is his reply:
No, we have a puppy, his name is Truman. You need to shout really loud for him to hear his name, he sheds like a chicken truck heading to slaughter, sleeps all day long and is worthless as a watch dog unless he's stepped on, wanders the neighborhood at will acting as if it's his given right to do so, and begs for food as if he's been locked in a POW camp, but nonetheless he's our puppy!
I got it. No puppy.