Almost...

For as long as I have known him, Beau has always wanted a dog.  He is a dog lover.  He thinks he can make any dog, no matter what the size, a lap dog, and the bigger and rougher the dog is, the more Beau likes him.  I, on the other hand, have never felt the appeal of owning a dog.  This might be because we never had pets growing up.  I was actually quite scared of dogs for a good portion of my life.  Frankly, I can do without the slobber, the constant jumping (and humping), and the smell of dog breath and even worse, damp dog hair.  Beau and I compromised in the pet department by rescuing a cat, and it's been fun watching my husband attempt to teach her numerous dog behaviors.  She eats just about anything you give her, plays fetch, and sits on Beau's lap whenever welcomed.  If she could only go on neighborhood walks... 

Yesterday, for a little under an hour, Beau's dreams turned into reality.  A collarless, fawn colored, panting pug showed up in our backyard.  She was tired, hungry, and friendly, and immediately took a liking to us.  We had no idea where she came from, but decided while she was here, we might as well pretend a little.  Beau got her a bowl of water, I fed her some fried bacon, and we borrowed a leash from our neighbors "in order to scout out potential owners," aka, "take our new puppy on a walk."  

I called the Humane Society to see if anyone had called about a missing pug.  When the lady from Animal Control asked if we wanted her to pick "Pugley" up, Beau quickly declined her offer.  He was not ready to give up his new found friend. 

After about a half hour into dog ownership, Beau decided to take his loyal companion on one last walk.  Shortly thereafter, I watched my husband return, longingly dragging his empty leash behind him like Linus's blue blanket in the Charlie Brown classics.  Beau said the young man was very happy to see his pug again. 

"She's so friendly, I was worried someone would find her and never give her up," the owner said as Beau handed in his claim. 

And as he walked away, empty leash in hand, he whispered to himself...

"You're lucky my wife is eight months pregnant."

So thank you, kind owner, for rescuing your precious pug and rescuing me from a kennel, a pooper scooper, and an endless supply of bacon flavored bones.

I do admit, she was a cute little snort of a thing :)

I guess it's true what they say about dogs resembling their owners ;)...