Miss B was inconsolable after Odd Trundles left. She kept circling the house looking for her poor squat almost-sheep, in order to herd him. She was moping so hard she wouldn’t eat, and even running didn’t seem to wear her out enough to rest. She would come home from a run and circle the house obsessively, checking all his usual sleeping spots, attempting to round up the cats so she could count them–as if he’d be hiding among them.
Eventually, the kids asked if we could go to the shelter and get her a friend. She was even beginning to chew at certain spots of herself, tufts of hair pulled free, and that was a bad sign.
So, one extremely warm day, Miss B and I went to Southwest Humane Society1. And lo, there was the perfect companion waiting.
Meet Sir Boxnoggin, Lord van der Sploot. Like any energetic three-year-old, he enjoys chasing squirrels (oh, my God, does he ever) and wrestling with B. He’s from Texas, and had a bit of a rough life before landing at Chez Saintcrow–rough enough that they called him “shy” at the shelter, though he was definitely not shy when it came time to meet B.
You can clearly see the van der Sploot in his heritage, right? Anyway, he has settled into the household as if he’s been here all along, barring some flinching at loud noises and requiring the usual calm and reassurance any dog with a hard past does. His chase drive is at least as high as Miss B’s, which makes for some interesting times in the backyard.
As for cats, well, they have the whole downstairs where Lord van der Sploot is not allowed to go. The Mad Tortie and Madame A are unhappy with this turn of events, but we must all make compromises to live. Fearless!Cat, being damn near eleven years old, could not care less as long as her feeding schedule remains the same.
Miss B is extremely happy with this turn of events and the kids are ecstatic. I feel a little guilty at having another dog so soon after Odd, and it’s strange not to have to arrange my whole life around said dog’s medical care. He doesn’t require Odd’s anti-seizure measures OR constant vet visits, and the resultant freeing up of time gave me the decompression fits.
So. Please welcome Sir Boxnoggin, my friends. He tried to go straight up a fir trunk this morning to make a further acquaintance with the squirrel we’ve dubbed Olsen Twins.
I think he’s going to fit in just fine.