Foxy & Hunting for Love
If you’re friends with me on Facebook you may have seen my post about the neighbor’s one-year-old female Foxhound. Here’s the full story.
About a year ago, our neighbors adopted a Foxhound puppy. We saw them in the yard with the adorable pup, walking her, playing with her, giving her affection. Within a month or so they set up a 6-foot run situated so they could open their front door and tie her up without ever stepping foot outside. The walks stopped. The outdoor play ceased. Whenever we saw the dog she was tied up, usually sitting outside the front door, sometimes barking, waiting for her humans to let her in.
The few times we met these neighbors it was apparent we had little in common. The family seems nice enough, though—they return hello waves, their kids are polite, and they are considerate with regard to the usual neighborly matters. Aside from my aggravation over their apparent lack of attention to their dog, I had no reason for complaint. I don’t know their situation, and since the pooch appears healthy there was no cause for concern.
Until last week.
The Foxhound (I have no idea what they call her) was running around our front yard. My husband, Joe, trekked across the street to notify the neighbors. The woman who answered the door said they knew the dog was loose but hadn’t been able to catch her. Joe thought this odd since the dog ran to him when he called to her, but he didn’t argue the point, just offered to bring the dog home. The woman told Joe that the Foxhound is too much for them to handle and they want to get rid of her. (Why don’t people research breeds before they get a puppy?)
I felt bad for the pup and decided to try and find her a home. First, I went across the street to ask if I could take a few photos of her. The Foxhound was loose again. The neighbors did not answer their door even though I gave them ample opportunity. The dog came right to me when I knelt down, was a bit rambunctious due to an obvious lack of discipline, but was otherwise sweet and affectionate. If I didn’t already have two dogs and three cats, one on Prozac (yep, Prozac—for details click HERE) I would take her in a heartbeat. But for now I’ll satisfy myself by trying to find her a home with people who understand that puppies don’t stay puppies for long and require loving discipline to make them the best companions they can be.
What bothered me the most was that in the year they’ve had her, I’ve never before seen her loose. Now, all of a sudden, she was running free twice in one day. My husband voiced the horrible thought that perhaps she was freed by design, providing her an opportunity to run away. The notion saddens me, and with all my heart I hope he’s wrong.
In any event, the Foxhound is in need of a good and loving home. A couple of people inquired, but no firm takers. I don’t know what the neighbors call her, but I’ve named her Georgia, geography notwithstanding. George Washington played a role in the breeding of American Foxhounds. He had three which he named Drunkard, Tipsy and Tippler. So in honor of George, the neighbor’s dog is Georgia to me.
I’ll keep you updated on my efforts to find Georgia a new home. She’s a sweetheart, and my hope is to find her a forever home before she is set loose again or delivered to the pound.
See you next week for more of the naked truth.
Lovin’ all the fur-babies –