Wednesday, April 22, 2009
OK, here is the deal: We have been working for the census to get up enough money for a new computer, as the old eMac is choking in its death throes. It must be four years old, which reads like a hundred in people years. We have seen lots of dogs while we were mapping census sites. My observation is that about half the dogs in the Bend are yapping little Chihuahuas or Chihuahua crosses, and half are big, sweet, yellow beasts who are glad have someone talk to them for a minute. The other half are nondescripts, but, like most dogs, good dogs. (Nitpickers, forget the math.) Couple days ago, herself was churning the brush down toward Port O when in the rearview mirror she saw something scuttle across the road. She went back and used dog treats (good census employees carry them) to toll this little beauty out of the weeds.
Obviously a pup dumped out on a country road, the pore little thing was starving to death. She is still showing a lot of rib and hip, despite a couple days of pounding down the groceries. She has not yet revealed her name. You want a nice little dog? We got a nice little dog for you. But wait … there is more. You want a nice big dog? Wife took the pup to the vet,and he says the dog should finish out at 40 or 50 pounds. Vet says the pup is some kind of blackmouth cur mix, about two and a half months old. Think of that folks! Blackmouth cur, the dog that opened the frontier. Old Yeller, hounds sleeping on the porch of the log cabin …
history on the paw.
But wait, there is more! Wife got first shots for the pup. And the price to you for this paragon of a pup? Not a thousand dollars, not five hundred dollars, not even one hundred dollars. This dog -- smart, funny, and full of life -- is yours for the asking. Otherwise, we will have another animal at our house. And that is pretty much OK, too. Dogs are the best.