Teaser #2

Ok, after promising an additional teaser for reaching 50 "likes" on Facebook and falling short last night, I got crackin this morning and waded through my edited manuscript.  I've been changing things that my editor recommended I change and I've been tweaking here and there.  Oh, in the meantime, worked on finding my remaining homeless foster dog a home.

So here is your second little teaser.  We're coming down to the wire here and I'm hopeful I'll still be able to get this to you in both epublication format and a physical book format.  Just need to get the writing wrinkles ironed out first.

I'm thinking that it would be fun to see 150 "likes" on Facebook by next Friday, February 24.  Do you think we could do?  Can you be bribed?  How about I promise another snippet?

This little blurb is about Zootee - our Standard Poodle!

Most of the dogs that arrive at my house through rescue are underfed, un-housetrained and unneutered.  There are few exceptions.  Some of the dogs are even more pathetic.  The longer haired dogs are most often shaved as they are so matted.  It’s just easier to take it all off and start over fresh.

            Zoot was a standard poodle who came to us like that.  Mostly starved, presumably beaten, he was shaved to the skin.  His coat color, we were to find out later, was apricot.  All we could see was his pink skin with less than a quarter of an inch of hair to keep him covered.

            Underneath that pink skin you could count his ribs.  He was such a hideous mess that our neighbor didn’t recognize the breed when he stopped over one of the first afternoons we had Zootee.  “What the hell is that?” he asked. 

He didn’t believe me when I told him that Zoot was a Standard Poodle.  He was a shaved, 20 pounds underweight, Standard Poodle.

            We rarely know the “stories” where the dogs come from.  Generally perhaps, we know.  This one came from Ohio.  A lot of the dogs don’t like men.  A few don’t like women.  It seems that the greater majority of rescue dogs like kids.  That’s it.  The rest of the story we make up.  When Zootee slept, he tucked his underweight frame into a teeny little ball.  His docked tail was between his legs and his nose was touching his tail between his hind feet.

            Despite his past, he was a proud dog.  He walked with his head and tail up.  He walked nicely on a leash and was always up for a walk and a sniff around the neighborhood.

            I picked him up from the doggy daycare on Saturday and by the next Wednesday, he had gone to the S.N.I.P. Clinic and was neutered.  On Friday, we packed the crew, Mocha, Te’a and our two-day post-surgical Standard Poodle and drove to Chippewa Falls for the Labor Day Weekend.

            Yes, we were the only ones in the campground with a Standard Poodle.  No, it really didn’t faze him to be gawked at. I’m pretty sure he liked all the attention, plus the walks around the park at night provided heavenly smells!

            It was a standard camping trip. I had taken along the “Foster Dog” blanket for Zoot to sleep on. It was an old king-sized bedspread I had picked up at a local thrift store and washed it and laid it out for each new foster to sleep on when they arrived at the house. 

            I wasn’t really thinking about it but it was early September in the Northwoods.  It was cold at night.  I slept in a toasty warm sleeping bag with my jacket on and a sweatshirt underneath. 

            I couldn’t figure out for the life of me why this dog wouldn’t settle at night.  I figured it was because he was just uncomfortable.  Well, yeah, he was uncomfortable. He was cold. 

            On the last night, I had an epiphany. I had him lie down on a corner of the blanket and I wrapped him up in it.  He never moved the whole night.  Sorry, buddy, promise I’ll do better next time. I had no idea at the time, but I had set a precedent in future sleeping arrangements.  His new mom tucks in him and his new brother, another Standard Poodle from our rescue, into their blankies every night.

            The next two weeks passed pretty much without incident.  He ate like a horse and put on a few pounds.  By the time he left my house, at the end of three weeks, he was sleeping on his back, all four legs in the air.

            His new mom wasn’t quite so sure how to go about “fattening” up a dog.  Sure, she’d put plenty of dogs on diets but never had to overfeed one.

            I guess she got it right because when I met them at a local dog park a few months later, he was quite plump and healthy looking.  His hair had grown in and he was curly and poofy like a poodle should be.