This is Tank. He is a stray that’s been in my neighborhood for a couple of weeks, and well…
I am in so much trouble. I talked my husband into letting him in so I could see if the vet would do some pro bono work on him in the morning. Honestly, my thought was if I could catch him, I could find a rescue to take him. Ridicuslously good dog, but given his looks, not long for the pound. Of course, that was Sunday, so who knows when I will hear back. And now there are talks of fostering. The hubs has already given a maybe on that, which, considering I didn’t whine, wheedle, convince and cajole, is pretty miraculous.
I think it’s the dude code. Tank and Ryan are the only ones not fixed in the house. And he must have had a guy for an owner at some point, because he follows Ryan around with pretty much worship. Given that my dog is a giant pug, Ryan is suddenly talking about “a man’s dog” and not being “embarrassed” when walking the dog if it was Tank. I think I see the beginnings of a bromance here.
Of course, Tank will need to get fixed. He has crazy wanderlust, and escaped my yard like a ninja. As in, if he didn’t fly out, I don’t know what happened. But at this point, there is some serious male bonding going on.
Or there would be. If it wasn’t 5am. Yeah, that’s the insomnia part. Ryan is allergic to pets in general, so no dogs in the bedroom. No unoccupied crate, or one that would even fit. Also a couple of cats that have yet to make an appearance since Tank’s entrance. So, in true, save-the-world-without-thinking style, like I do, I offered to sleep on the couch with him. We haven’t let him upstairs, so I was on the less than comfy downstairs variety. Five hours after laying down, I have two snoring, dead to the world dogs, the jinglings of cat plotting upstairs, and a migraine from this stupid couch bought for form rather than function.
May Monkey forgive me, I’m going to suck at parenting today. Oh, no. It’s the last day for testing slips for karate. We have to be there. Ugh. This is why my husband is always on me about not rescuing everything I see. Damn it if he doesn’t get to do the I’m right dance. Possibly video to follow.
Well, I’m up, so comment, facebook message, or hit me up on twitter. Especially if you or someone you trust can give Tank a good home.
Also, be warned I may not make much sense, especially given the length and rambling of this post. Ugh. I promise my books don’t suck this much.