I've always attracted strays. It's just one of those quirks of mine. And strays come when they will; it's not the sort of thing one can order and arrange.
I know this, but that knowledge didn't stop me from being greatly surprised when a medium-sized mutt adopted me yesterday while the Spookster and I were out walking (in preparation for our upcoming assault on Cerro Aconcagua, but that's a tale for another time). Friendly li'l fella, very well-mannered. He walks on a leash well and seems to be well behaved in the house (although he has a penchant for hopping up on the couch, which is a strict no-no in the bounds of our pack).
You may be asking yourself, "Mockingbird, what are you doing? Clearly, this critter has been owned by someone who taught him these rules of civilized behavior. You can't be thinking of keeping this animal - someone, somewhere must be missing him terribly!"
To which I say, "Ha." And furthermore, pffft! Look, this dog is so thin, he makes runway models look like a size fourteen. When a dog gets that skinny, he hasn't just been missing a day or two. There are no signs up in my neighborhood and the dog doesn't have tags. He's been living hard recently and I see no reason whatsoever to return a good dog to a home that would treat a kindly creature in that fashion.
So he's been flea-bathed and de-wormed. He's got his own crate (many thanks to Texas Woolf) so he doesn't have to sleep outside in the cold anymore. Tomorrow, it's off to the vet to check on his overall health and find out what sort of bloodlines he's got (more for curiosity's sake than me having certain breed standards). And, bless his cat-lovin' heart, FryDaddy has christened him. Since the doggy-not-in-the-window bears an uncanny resemblance to Spooky's country cousin, he will now be known as "Haint." Makes sense - I already had a bottle tree in the back yard; it's only natural that it eventually attracted a haint.
Looks like the Nest is a two-dog household now.