I hadn't really planned on a third dog, although I was suddenly (and sadly) aware that all of our animals (including our cats) were getting older. One day, we were visiting Jim and Barbara of Sheltie Rescue of Utah. Barbara had just had knee replacement surgery and we were stopping by to bring them food and to visit. As always, they had quite an assortment of shelties! They had just a month before pulled three shelties from a puppy mill situation. The dogs had been in bad shape when they came into Barb and Jim's program. They were underweight, skittish. The female was nine years old and still being bred. One of the three was Sherlock. He was the stud of the puppy mill. He came up to us very shyly and pawed my husband's leg. I was struck by how much he looked like a little version of Boo! He was quiet and shy and bossed around by the other dogs. Of course, I was utterly smitten. A couple of weeks later, I brought him home.
One of the things about puppy mill dogs is their lack of normal experience. He wasn't well versed in grass, was terrified of stairs and kept running in to things--particularly the glass sliding door. When I took him in to meet our vet, I asked him to give his eyes a good check. I was convinced he was partially blind. His eyes were, in fact, fine. As our vet explained, because they live in such a confined space most of their lives, puppy mill dogs don't have great depth perception. He assured me Sherlock's brain would develop that particular function just fine. And as always, he was right.
|Life is sweeeeet!|