Yesterday we went to the Oakland SPCA, where we saw our friend Cat Herder. Brent had a big dog in mind, but in the second kennel in the second room, I saw someone else.
We’ve named her Cricket. (My last dog was Rugby. He was a runt and needed something to grow into. Cricket has that same sporty thing going, but also a cuteness that suits her. T.R. suggested it.) She’s a long-haired dachsund mix, which means she has long legs, too. She has feathery, floppy ears and soft, brown fur. Her pointed face has an elfin look of intelligence and mischief, with two tan dots where her eyebrows would be to highlight her sharp and beautiful eyes.
So far, she has figured out that the kitchen is where food comes from. I made some chicken stock last night and when I was done, I got a good hand-licking. Syd and T.R. took her for a walk. She taught T.R. to fetch.
She’s not crazy about her crate, but she hasn’t cried much either. I’m going to let her get up as soon as it is my normal wake-up time. (Just because I happened to sneeze myself awake an hour and a half before my usual time does NOT mean I want to get up this early every day. It’s bad enough that I am supposed to get up at 4:30.) We’ll go outside and she can get to business and I can look at the moon.
Then we can come in for breakfast.