What am I?
Devastated by the loss of two Wolfhounds in rapid succession, we have been searching far and wide through all our contacts for a rescue Hound. While the search continues, we check in with the County shelter and a local dog trainer in hopes of finding a dog to adopt—a dog who won’t be dangerous to the sheep but is big enough to be protective.
A volunteer who helps at the shelter called one evening to say that a nice litter of puppies would be released for adoption the following day. She said, They’re probably going to be big, they are well socialized and healthy, and just three months old. Better come early!
We were there at 8:00 sharp, and the pups were brought out to the play yard. Cute doesn’t begin to describe them—shining black coats, dark eyes, soft ears, big paws and vests as white as snow. Looking at them with us, the shelter officer said he wondered if dad was a Collie—the coats sure looked like it.
After watching the five pups play and tumble in the yard, we settled on a male who seemed the most outgoing and athletic, though the differences were small. Soon he was legally transferred, papers completed, and tucked in the car.
Because his black coat and white vest remind us of a tuxedo, and because Bill has been reading a biography of Franklin Roosevelt, he became “Franklin.” However, he is certainly not aristocratic in any way—just a typical happy, hungry, affectionate little guy.