Roscoe

Okay, I know I said I wasn't posting on Christmas, so that leaves me a little less than an hour to get this out.

We used to live in an apartment complex, where we met a nice young girl who had two dogs; Roscoe and Riley.

These two dogs and my two dogs, Scooter and Petey, would go all full-goose bozo every time they saw each other and we always enjoyed letting them play.

Well, one day the young girl moved out, and shortly after that, we also left the complex and moved into a house with a nice yard for our dogs to run around in.

We kept in touch with "BobbiJoeSue Pettapole"*, but rarely saw each other as she lived just a hair over 'too far away'.

Eventually, BobbiJoeSue Pettapole met a guy, got married, and had a baby. They also got two new dogs, both large, and although Riley, who was average sized got along with them, poor Roscoe did not.

With a new baby, new dogs, new house, BobbiJoeSue Pettapole never seemed to have time to notice the trauma all this was putting on eight year old Roscoe.

Then, one day, noticing how he was losing weight, (he'd always been on the chunky side before) she decided she had to give him away to someone who had the time to give him the attention he needed, and to get him away from the larger dogs that were terrorizing him. Remembering how much he liked playing with my two dogs, (4 years ago), she told my wife she was giving Roscoe up.

Both myself and BobbiJoeSue Pettapole know my wife. Of COURSE she volunteered to take Roscoe. We'd be Delighted!

Now, I'm not a big fan of male dogs. Even neutered, I always feel like some kind of back alley pervert when I go to scratch there belly, and big dogs just seem to make more sense to me.

But I liked Roscoe, and hell, I got two small male dogs anyway, so how much more of a perv could I be?

Here is a picture of Roscoe as we brought him to our house today, Christmas eve.

 

Yes, those are his ribs and spine sticking out. However, the first thing he did when he got 'home' was to go to the dog food dish and start scarfing down dinner. And then shit on my floor. Twice.

 

Give me a month, and this mutt's gonna be the fat little meatball he was when I knew him back when.

I'll post a picture of him again in a month!

 

THIS is my Christmas present. And Scooter's and Petey's too. I didn't think they'd remember him. But its like they've been living next door the whole time....(that's Scooter's nose on the right. He hasn't left Roscoe's side since we got here.

 

Its little miracles like this that are what Christmas is all about, and even though I'm not 'Christian', I know SOMEONE placed this pain in the ass in my care for a reason.

 

Always was a sucker for a animal in distress. People; not so much...

 

 

Merry Christmas!~

 

* Her name is not really BobbiJoeSue Pettapole. I just happen to think that's a pretty cool name.