My son J goes to the gym really early in the morning. The week before Thanksgiving he was driving the hilly roads near Philly and saw a tiny white pile of fur in the road. He followed it in the car and then on foot. Finally it turned on its back and put paws up in surrender. It was a tiny thin dog. He was going to take it home, but passed a police car and surrendered it to the officer. It was taken to the shelter. The dog had a chip with name, address, age 7, purebred Toy Maltese. The shelter won't let finders adopt. My persistent DIL called everyday for four weeks to check on the dog. "Oh yes "J", he's fine. We sent a registered letter." Finally "Oh the letter was returned." Well persistence pays. The little guy came home to live with Sam the rescued Labordoodle
and Dali the rescue cat.
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Dali in the tree |
Only 4.5 pounds, but he has added a pound in just a few days.
When his hair grows back he'll be a little fuzz ball.
When they said "Oh J" at the shelter we thought it was because he was checked in under the finder's name. Turns out my son and the foundling had the same name! Fate? Kismet? However the same name didn't fly. He's now named Bear. He's "Bear-ly" big enough to warrant the name but is certainly as fierce as a bear. He fearlessly rules Sam.