Our would-be adopter backed out on us, as I feared she would. So I’m putting out the call again: if you’re anywhere near central Arkansas and would like a 4.6 pound bundle of squeaks and chomps who just wants love and supper and to playplayplay, hit me up at middleclasstool at the gmail and we will deliver with bed, food and toys.
Jeff is now Squeaky Pete
Jeff didn’t suit him. So we renamed him.
The vet asked me to thank my wife for grabbing him. He wouldn’t have lasted two days if she hadn’t. He had a massive abscess on his neck from where he was attacked, plus a belly full of hook worms and round worms. So they squoze the abscess (SO MUCH PUS) and sent us home with antibiotics and dewormer.
Two days later, he’s a different dog. Curious and playful, as a puppy should be. Not pitiful and exhausted. You can no longer count his ribs at a distance. He gained a whole pound, which for him is a roughly 25% weight gain in 48 hours. He can eat and drink without getting sick. He doesn’t cry when you move him. And boy does he like to play bite.
Oh, and it’s not done until he’s delivered, but I think he will have a permanent home before the weekend is over. Losing him will be hard, but it will be good practice for letting go. In the meantime, we are determined to enjoy him and spoil him.
Nicknames I have given him in the last 48 hours:
Petey Peters
Peter Barker
SqueePee
Pete “Petey” Peterson
Petey Petey Bite Your Feety
Bitey Herzog
Ah Goddammit He Got Me on the Dick
