DaisyGreetings, my fellow port swillers!

Meet Daisy*.  Daisy is seven years old, purported to be a mix of golden retriever and spaniel.  You can see from this pic why this claim has some merit.  She’s about the size of a spaniel and has the ears.  At the same time, she also plainly has many golden qualities.  What you can’t see is that she has the big, feathery, golden paws and almost no tail to speak of, but both of these elements further affirming the proposition.

Now ol’ Robbo grew up with dogs and loves them, and it has been an ongoing lament of his that he has not had one as a pet since he left home for college some 32 years ago.  Of course, during school the idea was out of the question for fairly obvious reasons.  Post-educational acquisition was long out of the question too, however, in that Mrs. R had no doggie background and was little interested.  After long argument, I at last recently got her to agree, in principle, to maybe have a go at what we came to call a “starter” dog, i.e., one that was older, broken in, disciplined in all the necessities, and not in need of hands-on training.**

Our soft target for said starter dog was when teh Eldest Gel went away to college (or elsewhere), a year and a half from now.  What I did not expect was said starter showing up at Port Swiller Manor this weekend.

Suffice to say, whatever the cause, ol’ Robbo generally hates surprises.

After I had finished heaving the crockery, however, I began to see our acquisition of Daisy as an act of mercy.  It seems that Mrs. R picked her up from the pound.  She had been the pet of another family who were switching apartments, and, apparently, the new digs did not accept pets.  Hence, the heave-ho.  How anyone can do that to a dog is beyond me, but of course I know nothing of all the circs.  Suffice to say, it was not a good thing for Daisy.

Anyhoo, I’m happy to report that Daisy seems to be fitting in just fine.  She’s a gentle, genial thing and, discounting the trauma of landing in a completely new environment,  pretty laid back.  Indeed, she has glommed on hard to teh younger gels, especially teh middle one, going so far as to sneak the latter’s dinner this evening when unobserved.  Better yet to me, she and the kittehs have no problem with each other.  My only regret so far is that she seems to be afraid of me.  I’m guessing this has something to do with her former environment and reckon it won’t take very long for her to come around.

So, welcome aboard, Daisy!  A glass of, er, water with you!

I would only point out one thing:  As of now,  Port Swiller Manor contains Self, Mrs. R, three teenaged daughters, three female cats and one female dog.  That’s 8 to 1.  Anybody who thinks they can somehow make a profit on ol’ Robbo’s liver once he shuffles off this mortal coil can forget it.  It simply ain’t happening.

 

* Apparently, her original name was “Precious”.  Ain’t no way I would have a pet of that name.  We haaaates it!  Also, so I gather, her prior owners were Spanish-speaking only.  Thus, we’ve got a whole lot of re-edumacation on our hands here.  UPDATE:  I forgot to mention that Mrs. R chose “Daisy” in honor of Daisy Williams.  Who? Why, the guiding spirit of Sweet Briar College.  (Literally – her ghost still walks the campus.)  Yes, we’re still in the thick of that fight.

**  One of my ultimate life goals is that, if and when I retire (Oh, hohohohoh!!!!), I can have a man’s dog of my own.  I don’t mind a golden or a lab, but I’ve nothing against the terriers, particularly Scotties and fox terriers, either.  Indeed, I want something that challenges me, making a few bloody knuckles worth it.

UPDATE:  A glass of wine with all of you for your kind comments!  I walked out on to the porch this evening and teh place smelled…..doggeh.  Mmmmmmm.  A good, good smell.   So far as Daisy goes, all remains well.  She’s got into the family routine very quickly, has not made any messes, continues to get along perfectly well with teh kittehs and is firmly attached to teh younger gels, especially the Middle Gel, with whom she sacks out.  She’s still a bit skittish around me, which makes me wonder what things were like in her former family, but I am enough of an old hand with dogs to know that, with patience, she will come around.

 

 

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