Yesterday, Scout came to live with us. This is Scout with Duncan. She tormented him, as little sisters will, all day yesterday. This morning she stalked our cat around the house, unaware that Zoe is a cold-blooded killer, armed and dangerous. I expect she'll learn.
She'll never win a beauty contest. She's got a long, hound dog tail that whips about and she's a little wall-eyed. An all-American brown mutt, part shepherd, part hound, part mystery and all heart. She's smart, wants to please, and listens when you speak.
She's got enough energy to light the house if we could figure out how to plug her in. When we first met Scout, she liked to jump up, but she's gotten better about that in just one day. She learned not to jump on the couch, at least while we're home. We'll see. Her foster mom says she likes to move shoes around the house. She doesn't chew them, just rearranges things for some reason only Scout knows.
She was a stray for a long time and then taken in by a family who starved and abused her. In spite of that, Scout is remarkably free of the hesitation and suspicion you might expect in a dog who has known hard times.
We walked her this morning and she did well on the leash. Jenny's wondering what we got ourselves into, but I suspect that Scout will work her way into the family in no time.
Now, if we can get her to let old Duncan nap in peace, this should work out fine.