Ginger Dog!

Ginger dog!! Note how his spots match my hair!
(I've since dyed it back to brown to better match Bu.)

Let me just preface this for to avoid any confusion: I am not a dog person. I am even less a "person who doesn't clean up after their dog, (the dog they chose to own, boy that really burns my britches! Though I totally blame the biped not the dog)" person. I do truly like most dogs, though, in a formal, "mmmYes. Nice to meet you. I see you arrived accompanied by Mr. Carter from 2A. Lovely. Ah! He has plastic baggies attached to his belt! Good chap! Well, it's been lovely and your coat is fabulous, but I truly do have to be going. Finicky, jealous, screen-shredding cats and all that, what what," sorta way. I like to pet the friendly dogs and I respect the protective ones, but I have never held any desire to ever own a dog of my own.

This was totally challenged in Ireland when I met the Ginger Dog, aka Dolmen Dog (this clever name originated from the fact that we met him when we got out of the car to inspect, you guessed it, a dolmen).

This dog was awesome. If I could have figured out a way to smuggle him home, and could be assured that Bu and 'red would welcome him, I absolutely would have. He didn't bark, he didn't jump, he just followed me around and let me carry him about to keep him out of the way of cars. As we were trying to leave, he kept following the car so he could follow me home. I got the distinct feeling that the Atlantic wouldn't have been much of a deterrent to his course. It almost made me cry to leave him, he was so awesome. I have a very good feeling he is loved by his bipeds, though, and has an excellent home already, free of freakishly large cats.

FLC (Freakishly Large Cat)

1 comment:

Shannon said...

Yeah, I think you FLC is larger than the Dolmen Dog. Probably best he stayed in Ireland (he was a good dog, though!).