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USA Weekend
Wednesday, November 04, 2009 9:41 PM

MOSS: Found: Stinky lesson in patience

By VICKIE MOSS, Are We Done Yet?

We had a houseguest recently.

And you know how the old joke goes: What do houseguests and fish have in common? They both stink after three days.

That’s true, even when the guest is a little lost dog.

Actually, this dog stank from the beginning.

I found him exploring my porch about 9 p.m. on a Wednesday, a cute little blond Pekingese. I kept watch on him for awhile, thinking he would go home. Instead, he wandered aimlessly in the road in front of my house.

I asked a couple of neighbors if they knew the dog. No one had seen him before.

I couldn’t bear the thought of the little guy getting hit by a car, so I took him in.

He didn’t have a collar and was dirty and smelly, so our first step was to give him a bath.

My kids, of course, asked if we could keep him.

“Absolutely not,” I insisted. “We’re going to find his owners.”

That didn’t stop my daughter from naming him Pepe. I told her No-No was a better name.

“As in No-No, we’re not keeping him,” I insisted again.

I posted a note about my good deed on Facebook, hoping my Garnett friends knew the dog. No one did.

The next day, I called the local veterinarian clinic and the animal control officer to see if anyone had reported a lost dog. No luck.

I placed a “Found” ad in a local newspaper and put up fliers at local stores and the laundromat.

Days went by. No response.

I thought about keeping him. He was housetrained and comfortable in a house full of kids and pets.

The problem was, we have a German shepherd puppy named Pandora.

She’s only four-months-old, but already about 35 pounds, gangly and playful.

And, it turned out, very protective.

Pandora made sure her body always was between me and the interloper, which made it difficult to walk through the house. She went beserk when I put her in the crate and the little dog roamed free.

Fortunately, the dog helped teach Pandora about manners. By Sunday, the little dog could eat from Pandora’s bowl. She didn’t like it, but she allowed it.

Pandora also learned that little dogs, like cats, are not chew toys.

They became friends, but that almost was worse than enemies. Pandora playfully chased the dog around the house, her big body banging into too-small spaces where the little dog hid — like under shelves where I had stacks of papers or breakable items.

It was a mess.

By Monday, I decided we had to find the little dog a new home. We only recently became a one-dog family. I just couldn’t handle two.

That’s when I got the call. The little dog’s owners finally saw the flier at the grocery store. They accurately described him, and I drove him home.

Turns out, the little guy wandered quite a long way — more than a dozen blocks and even across the highway. Apparently he had slipped out of his collar and run off.

His name was Copper, and he had a family full of kids and pets.

My kids said goodbye to the little dog, knowing he was going back to a family that loved and missed him.

Pandora, I think, was just happy to have us to herself again.

Vickie Moss is public affairs editor for The Herald. E-mail her at vmoss@ottawaherald.com

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