When we arrived at the lake before sunrise Saturday, I heard a dog barking in the distance while Xena and Ozzy barreled out of the truck. I thought it was coming from across the water, maybe up on the cliffs that crowd the western shoreline.
Xena knew better.
She charged straight down to the water and jumped in, followed closely by Ozzy. When I got there, I saw a soaked, shivering white dog standing in the water under the dock. I waded out, grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and reeled it in.
The poor thing was shivering uncontrollably, and I was afraid it might have hypothermia. So I canceled the hike, much to Xena and Ozzy’s lament, and took the little dog to the emergency vet clinic, where I learned it’s a female toy poodle, probably about 13 years old, blind and deaf.
At first, I thought some total piece of shit had thrown the little dog in the lake to get rid of it. But after watching it wander aimlessly around the house for a few hours, I’m starting to think it was either abandoned or drifted away from home and stumbled into the lake by accident. Once there, it wasn’t able to climb out.
Not sure yet what I’m going to do with it. This would be Dog No. 5, and it seems to be in pretty bad shape. I’m going to try to find the owner via lost-and-found ads, but deep down, I know better. This dog is my problem. It’s definitely not adoptable. And I’m not sure how much quality there is to its life. I might need to put it down if I can’t locate the owner. It’s definitely not a decision I’m in a hurry to make. I’m going to give her a little while to see how she adjusts to the house …
