So, what's funny about my dog is that I kind of just knew that he was going to be my dog. I walk into the county animal control shelter, and the first kennel I see has him in it, who looks up at my with one of the saddest, most pitiful faces I have ever seen...as he is squatting down and relieving himself, and since he was in basically a concrete box this meant he was just standing in a puddle of piss. I continue on up the aisle of kennels, but only make it about 3/4 of the way down the first one before I turned around and came back to his kennel.
He was in pretty rough shape when at first, both incredibly skinny and sick with kennel cough, but outside of a couple of incidents which on reflection are pretty funny (one time, after returning from a trip I took with my family I came back to my apartment, and me and a roomate who was arriving back from some errands at the same time found that, after being placed into the bathroom to seperate him from the other dog, had managed in the brief time he was alone make a 2' x 3' arch in the bottom half of the door, making the bottom half a large 'n'.
Anyway, more picture of him:
Here he is hanging out with a couple of my family's other dogs (I may do a post on them at some point), the bed happens to belong to the (not-so-little-)guy on the left.
He loves to sprawl while resting, either like this or on his stomach/chest in more of a pancake fashion.
