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This series is supposed to be done. Psych! There’s another dog. There’s so many I loose count. No, not really. There’s extenuating circumstances. This dog, while not technically ours, he’s certainly in residence. And going nowhere fast.
We hope.
Ford.
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And so we’ve come to the end. Just when you thought I’d never run out of dogs to profile, I am… I did… or something. I mean, this is the last dog! The last dog officially belonging to me. The last dog I signed on the dotted line for. Likely the dog most often featured on Dogs or Dollars, the baby of the family, The Pug: Hugo.
First with the nicknames, because he’s got some doozies. Hugh, Hu (pronounced Who?), Hugo-potamus, Potamus, Potamus Hu, Pots, Hu Pots, Go-Go, Pug, Pug-Dog, and Goodfernuthin’.
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Let’s re-visit the dog situation for a moment. At this point in our lives, we had 4 dogs. Four. As in more than average. A house full. A pack.
We’d slowed way down on the fostering, focusing on our own mutts. Although occassionally there was a transient resident on their way to a more permanent existence. That exception is how we ended up with one wayward, very naughty, terribly cute, and altogether unnecessary Terrier.
That’s Rocco when he was brand new to us. Approximately one year old, with three homes and a rescue under his belt already. All soft faced and innocent looking. Heh.
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You’ve met the Girls. Now, let us commence, with the boy portion of events. Speaking of those girls, I don’t recommend them. At least not in threes. Don’t get me wrong, I love Abbey, Winnabelle, and Hannah Banana fiercly. It’s one of those situations where, had I a mulligan to exercise, I would not get three girls. Girls are well, they’re bitches. Plain and simple. They posture more. They guard. They are upwardly mobile. They are thinkers. All has not always been flowers and peace amongst our trifecta of canine ladies.
By the time we bought our first house, we’d had a rotating 4th foster dog on and off for about a year. Mostly of the Dalmatian persuasion. Dalmatians are one of those dog breeds (like Pugs by the way) that love other Dalmatians. Hannah needed a brother official, and we needed a boy in the mix to break up the girl party. Need being a completely subjective word in this case.
Hello, Jaime.
And then there were three.
When Abbey and Winnabelle were about a year and a half old, we thought it would be a good idea to get another dog.
Why? I do not know, but it was a turning point. Two dogs is normal. Three dogs though. Three dogs is a slippery slope to crazy town.
Appropriately, Enter Hannah. And our introduction to rescue.
AKA, Hannah-Banana, Banana-Fanna, Banana, Boo-Boo, Boo, Boo-Squirrel. Seriously, where do these things come from?
She may look mild mannered. Don’t let her fool you. Hannah has one goal. Total world domination.
Doggie intro’s have been much requested. It seems everyone wants to know a little more about my merry band of misfits. In order to avoid writing the pooch version of War and Peace, this will be a series in X parts. How many parts you say? I guess you’ll know at the end, won’t you?
We must begin with the beginning.
Abbey. It all started with Abbey.
Disclaimer: All my dogs come with a litany of ridiculous nick-names. Lovey-Dovey jibberish they miraculously answer to. In case you didn’t think I was enough of any idiot about my dogs, I will share those with you, if only to embarrass myself further.
AKA Ab, Abra, Abracadabra, Abbey McSpaniel, Ab Span, Wabber, Spring One (her sister is Spring Two – Think Dr. Seuss).
You can read more about Abbey’s trials and tribulations here. In a nutshell, she’s a 12 year old field bred Springer Spaniel, with a myriad of health problems. But, Abbey is more than the sum total of her malfunctioning parts. To this day, even with her graying brows and jowls, we get asked how old she is. As in, is she a puppy? Abbey primary affliction is from a disease (albeit an imaginary one), called PPD, Perpetual Puppy Disorder. Like the Toys-R-Us kids of my youth, Abbey don’t wanna grow up. Never has, and even in her dotage, I suspect she never will.
Abbey is energy-full. That is an understatement. She is 32lbs of happy.
If we were writing her online dating profile, it would go a little something like this…
Energetic, practical spayed female, in her sunset years, but not ready for retirement yet. Seeks constant companionship, emphasizing constant. Likes include howling in joy, barking for attention, power snuggling, therapy swimming, and staring longingly into your eyes. Not interested in sharing affections, bossy bitches or pushy pugs.
Above all else (this would not be included in her profile) Abbey loves me. We have teams around here, my team and The Husbands. Abbey is the team captain for my side. She’d just prefer it was a team of one. She would follow me into the pits of hell, and wag her nub of a tail while doing it, just because we’d be together.
Abbey was the only dog to be an ‘only dog’. It didn’t last long though. Next Week: Winnabelle.
