There’s a new dog on the block. Small, black and white, muscular and macho. A typical Jack Russell.
Pip was whining outside my bedroom door this morning. It was well beyond first light. Cousin might have thought I had done a body swap with Rip Van Winkle. I surfaced briefly to answer a call from Lovely Neighbour who could not locate the cat litter.
MasterB gave her a hard time last night when she refused to let him out at eleven o’clock. I don’t think she’s been on the receiving end of one of his vocal protests before. I think it made an impression.
Anyway, back to Pip. I assumed it was Westie Boy and opened my door. WB gave me a big welcome last night so I thought he might be after a morning game.
So I am not sure which of us was the more surprised. Pip has been rescued, and although he is still very young, he has evidently got some issues. Small Dog Syndrome being the most obvious. We were getting on nicely until I stood up. Suddenly I was too tall. Pip turned from happy chappie to sideways-looking-white-of-eye-showing-rumble-in-the-throat boy.
Fortunately, later we had a bonding session in the garden playing with his ball, and this evening, I suddenly found him sitting happily beside me as though we were established friends.
Don’t worry that WB was ignored. He sometimes finds his new friend rather over-assertive and controlling. So there were two ball games going on and I was involved in both of them.