And his name is Scupper.
We found him at a shelter. When i first saw him he was very quiet and watchful, seemed smart and ready. He was a little scruffy of a dog, unique amber eyes. I asked to see him out of the cage, but they refused, stating the dog would be featured as ” pet of the week” in the Houston chronicle 9 days from that moment. she went on to inform me he was not up for adoption at the present moment. Naturally, I had to have him. I argued all the rational points to why it was best to adopt out this dog now, rather than wait for some stupid doggy spotlight in the papers. I got a sympathetic but firm sorry, no go. When that didn’t help I demanded, in my most imperial tone, to speak to whomever was in charge. I asked the rather tired looking face if she felt it was right to keep a dog from a loving home? To be the instrument of pain for this poor little sad dog? 9 days in this shelter compared to being home, cuddled up in mom and dads loving arm? Guilt didnt work, outrageous indignation didnt work, tears didn’t work, I would have to wait for my little ball of fur.
Adoption day, the first day scupper was allowed to be adopted out, happened to fall on St Patties day. Concerned someone would get to him first and break my heart, my husband formed a plan of action that required the work of several intrepid souls :-). Get there early and come in force, just I case we had to brawl it out with someone who also wanted him. My sisters family, Noel, her husband, Erika Lily, their daughter, and Warren their son, all came early with us and stood at the doors to make sure we were the first to get in. Scupper had been moved so it was a little tricky finding him. But in the end we beat out this older couple who came that day to see him, whew! I’d feel bad about it but scupper is my dog, my husband is somewhat luke warm to the idea of a little dog, but he is game.