Salty Whiskers, our new dog.

This picture was taken on the bank of the river after I finally finished all of the paperwork that let me take him home. I spent a good hour just sitting with him and walking him, and letting him get used to me before I stuffed him in the car to take him to the vet's office. He had spent so little time out of doors that it was a remarkable time for him. And it helped him develop a little trust with me. He did not want to go in or out of the truck, and let me pick him up just for those. But once he was in the truck, he was fine- running all over the back seat to pick the Best View, and then settling where he could just sit and watch me.

I sat on the burm for a little while, just singing and talking to him, and then I remembered the last time I spent near a shelter just sitting and talking and singing to a dog, and I burst into tears thinking about Kenya. No, Salty isn't going to replace her in any way shape or form, but she'll scoot over and make room at the food bowl. He came closer when I cried, wanting to comfort me, and yet still scared. The poor dear.

Apparently, he had his vaccinations at the shelter including his rabies, and he allegedly had been Frontlined there. Their vet said he would need his teeth seen to soon, so we knew that going in. Our vet agreed that his mouth was in terrible shape. She said his coat looked good though and his heart sounded well. There was minor concern over runny poo and a mild fever- but these could be stress from the change of being in the shelter, the constant change in his diet, and the possible mild infection of his teeth. Also, one of his testicles was not descended, so getting him neutered would not be a quick and easy matter- he would need one ball searched for. In the interest of making him more comfortable, we decided to get the teeth cleaned tomorrow, especially if he still had the fever in the morning, because the teeth were the most likely cause if there was any infection. And while they had him, they would do a fecal examination on anything he produced overnight to check for parasites. He will come home tomorrow evening with a course of antibiotics. So we're doing some scurrying to prepare. In two weeks or so, he'll go back to the vet's and they'll hunt for his balls. The problem with a testicle non-descended is that it is much more likely to turn cancerous, and if it's not the lump the vet thinks it is, that lump had better get checked out- although it's probably just a fat lump.

And the housebreaking begins tomorrow. Wish us luck! We'll need it.  ¶ 6:00 PM