Hotel for Dogs

It's been a busy week here at Waggy Towers.

First, Rollo went home. His real name is Sammy, and he lives on a small farm. Sadly his owner has gone into a nursing home, and the family are trying to make plans for his future, but while they do, he's a bit all over the place. Poor Sammy. As I was giving him back, I told them that we'd be able to find him a home if they needed us, but they want to sort something out themselves. They gave us a nice donation. Good for them.

Then, literally ten minutes later (that's actual literally there, not the new kind that means figuratively) I got a call from one of my dog-walking pals to say that one of his neighbours had just been told that her dog has to go. They live in the local mobile home park, and the little dog has been getting loose and causing a nuisance in the park, so the family was told that the warden would be called if something wasn't done.

So Trixie is here with us now. She is a feisty little terrier lady who, despite having spent most of her time outside in a little yard by herself in her former home, is happy to sit up on sofas and laps in our house. She loves her walks, she chases the cats a bit (but not in an alarming way) and she leaps right up at your face when you come downstairs in the morning. That's the good news.

The bad news is that she's a senior girl, at least eight years old, which means nobody will insure her. She also has just the one eye, which might put some people off. And she has the beginnings of a heart murmur, which could become expensive in the future.

But everyone does just think she's the cutest thing ever. And she really is. I should also point out that in an estate filled with bichon frises, cavaliers, and little poms, I'm proud to trot about with a slightly raggy, home-made looking dog on the end of my lead. We look a bit like a witch with her familar, though I'm not sure which of us is which.