Today one thing led to another. I needed bloodwork done and so Denise and I ended up at the lab just off Highway 89A. That was well on the way to Jerome, so I suggested we have breakfast at the Mile High Grille. Jerome was well on the way to Prescott, so we went to Trader Joe’s and The Art Store. On the way back we approached a fork in the road that led either home or to the animal shelter. We went to the animal shelter and what we thought would be the second in a series of many window-shopping excursions that would eventually land us a dog. Little did we know that Dixon, billed as an Australian Shepherd, would be the one dog in a row of rowdies and manic leapers that would maintain aplomb and interest in both of us. Now he is home with us and cats Misty and Cookie, in the first day of “pre-adoption.” Here he is, in protective custody.
We let him roam free for a while, but our cats clambered up a tall bookcase and wouldn’t come down. When we put him in the microkennel, Misty came down, and trash-talked through the cage bars, proving protective custody was a good idea.
Dixon is not the ideal dog. He is slobbery with water and smells too much like dog. But he has a good big heart, he’s happy to know at least two of us, and so far he’s held it until taken outside. I hope the coming days lead to peaceful interspecies coexistence.