Saturday was a dog day, in the literal sense. Baby mentioned out of the blue that she’d like to have a pet dog. I'm skeptical about this new wish (and said so) because she has never shown interest in dogs before.
A friend gave me a purebred Belgian Shepard as a birthday present a couple of years ago, and the two of them didn’t get on well. Or rather, John Fox wanted to get along, but Baby rejected his overtures. Eventually, John Fox had to go - he was an exuberant, big puppy and I had a little girl in the house who was not taking to him at all.
I also met a couple that's emigrating to The Netherlands, and are looking for new homes for their two dogs and a million cats. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit, but everywhere I looked in the semi there seemed to be a cat!
One of my friends wanted a dog for her eight-year old son, so we went over to pick it up. His name is Skipper, and they say he’s a Schipperke.
“He’s not really our dog,” one of the man said as my friend picked up Skipper to examine him. For a moment we were stunned – he was giving away a dog that didn’t belong to him?
The real story is that he rescued the dog following a car accident outside his house. He found the dog lying on the pavement (sidewalk), took him to the vet and kept him when no one responded to his adverts and posters. He named the dog Pavement, but was later persuaded to go for a more doggy name, hence Skipper.