Good grief. Or, 'the dog who came in from the cold'

"A family once looked for a pet
They'd tried rabbits, cats and turtles, and yet...
Not til they went to the pound
And found their crazy hound
Did they realise the trouble they'd get".

Our dog is a lunatic.
There I said it.

He IS from the pound, therefore the reuse & recycle philosophy was successfully applied. The day we set out looking for a dog, I sternly warned the family (again) that even though their hearts were set on it, the only rule I had was that I did NOT want a Jack Russell. Not no way not no how.

And all the family nodded and said "we know".

We saw one dog and all the family said as one "aaaaaaah"
The attendant told us he had just that minute been spoken for, sorry.

And all the family said as one "aaaawww"

And we dragged our sorry behinds around the hotel, I mean pound, but no other dogs appealed.

As we left, I spoke to the lady at the front desk and asked if we could be put on a waiting list for the dog.

She raised an eyebrow and said "we don't do that, that dog is spoken for. The lady who has asked for him is just bringing in her other dog to make sure they get on, which they will because this one is so even tempered, then she's taking him home"

I showed her the sad faces of my four children, who, by the way, so earned the KFC for lunch promised for their sad faces, and she sighed and said "oh oh-Kay then, but please promise me you won't get their hopes up, that dog will be gone in half an hour"

We left with the children and their by now genuinely sad faces.

About ten minutes down the road, my phone rang.
"Um, that lady just decided she didn't even want to try her dog with this one, she doesn't want it. If you're interested, he's yours"

And all the family rejoiced greatly, for this was their wish.

The sign on his door read "CORGI X" and I smiled, as corgi was the royal breed; therefore they couldn't be stupid dogs, could they? My plan was successful. A not stupid, not crazy dog, one who knew his place and was happy in it.

And we were allowed to play with the dog to check he fitted the family.
We threw a ball, we let the youngest ride him like a horse, the oldest to smush his face into crazy expressions and the middle children to chase him til they were exhausted.
And all the children said "come to the one you love the best" and the dog came to me.

Thus, we purchased our dog.

One the ride home in the car, I turned and looked at him. His squat corgi legs, his envelope fold ears, his unusual corgi colouring, his docked tail (courtesy of the people who had dumped him) and his face.... His.... Face.....

'Hang on... The corgi bit, I get. The cross bit... That's jack Russell, isn't it?"

My husband looked into the mirror at the faces of the children in the backseat, who looked back at him, alarmed; as co-conspirators in the 'let mummy have a blonde moment' affair.

"Please don't make us take him back, mummy...."

And thus we had purchased a dog who half broke the rule.

This became the first time he broke a rule.
And he didn't even know there WAS a rule.
And thus, a pattern was set.