The Yellow Dog

This is our yellow dog. My son had been wanting a dog for several months, when this one came up at my brother's house. My brother graciously gave him to us. He is just a puppy, so I assume he is going to be pretty big. If I had to guess his heritage, I would say shepherd and lab. With certainty, he is 100% yellow dog.

Getting a dog would never have been on the top of my priority list. I have always been a cat person. I like cats because they aren't so needy, are somewhat neat, are so graceful, and ...

Dogs on the other hand are, well, trouble. This is the hole that the dog tore into the screened porch, dog trot. Through this hole all of the outside has been invited inside. Through this hole my shoes and other articles of clothing have disappeared. Just today, I found a glove, a shoe, and a pair of shorts on the farm. The Christmas wreath that I spent hours constructing from pine cones is now shredded into giblets on the front porch (O.K. The Christmas wreath should have been stored months ago, but it wasn't). The list of destruction of property seems endless, though, even I am not upset.

We needed a dog. He fits our family and farm like the glove I picked up outside. He doesn't eat the chickens (or at least not yet). He is a good companion for my son's explorations. He has a superb disposition, and is not as needy as many dogs. As my son says, "You can't stay mad at that face for long."

Three weeks ago, I ran over his front leg when I was backing out. We rushed him to the veterinarian, but no real damage was done. He was sore for a few days, so we let him come into the house to recuperate. Now he thinks he is an inside dog. I'm not sure I am ready for that yet.