Bad Puppy

Rod had just left for work. I shuffled out to the kitchen in my bathrobe and slippers and peered out the back door. There, curled up on the back patio, was a puppy. (Did Rod forget to tell me something before he left?)

Small enough to fit through our fence, she appeared to be about six weeks old. When I opened the door and stepped out she backed into a corner and offered what I assume she thought to be a ferocious growl. I put some dog food in front of her and she didn’t seem to know what it was. However, she did appreciate the leftover meatloaf that I presented next.

We’ve named her “Caspa” which means “Dandruff” in Spanish. (Fortunately, after a couple of months of nourishing food she no longer has that condition.) She appears to be mostly Black Labrador and is growing by leaps and bounds. She is very busy tormenting the other animals, digging holes in the lawn and destroying patio furniture.

I’m not sure that we’re going to keep her but when she’s not being destructive, she’s pretty damn cute.

The Culprit

The Evidence