No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Our household now has three dogs. Scratch that. We have two dogs and the devil himself wearing fur and whiskers.

In early October, my eldest daughter and I drove to Jackson, Mississippi to meet a volunteer from Southeast Pug Rescue. We'd agreed to adopt a fostered Chihuahua/Pug mix that had been evacuated from New Orleans. Already having two Pugs, we felt prepared, no! honored to add one homeless puppy to the family.

Some of this little sweetie's antics thus far include; occasionally crapping on my younger child's bed, peeing on my stomach as I slept, chewing my brand new dance shoes, compulsive circling, incessant barking at nothing, rocking her crate for hours in protest of being confined, eating her poops and terrorizing my loving Pug, Lil.

The coup de grace occurred last weekend. A mountain of freshly laundered clothes was piled upon the couch, waiting to be folded. The terror jumped up on the laundry and took a walking wiz across the whole sha-bang.

My theory is that she was not actually displaced by the hurricane but that some wise family took advantage of the situation and threw her out as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Perhaps they saw one of those canine paddy wagons trawlin' down the street and decided to act fast. "Take that collar and ID tags off! Rub some mud on 'er! Quick, pull those shades and put that damn dog on the front stoop!"

Yup, pretty sure that's how it happened.