|Rascal with an inflatable crown from Mardi Gras 2011|
About 7 years ago I was working at OSU, living in an apartment and having a pretty good time. I had just been unceremoniously dumped so was highly emotional (i.e. prone to giving into something like accepting a dog). But this dog was never supposed to be mine.
Across the busy road from our offices lived a guy named Sexy Chocolate. Seriously that's how he identified himself on his voice mail. He owned this puppy, Rascal, who jumped and escaped and loved to run in the road. After rescuing him several times from traffic, my coworkers decided that he had to be saved and that it would be easy to give him a new home (with Sexy Chocolate's permission, of course). Somehow I ended up being that home temporarily, despite the fact that I couldn't have pets in my apartment and didn't really need the hassle. (Although Rascal was pretty cute ... I'm not sure I have a digital photo of his puppy-dom ... if so, not on this computer.)
While Rascal lived with me, during the day he stayed in the bathroom, and I would come home at lunch to let him out. At night I'd make him sleep on a towel on the carpeted floor by my bed, but somehow he'd always end up in the bed with me. Meaning I never got deep sleep because I was constantly putting him back on the floor -- or imaging him jumping up on me.
After everyone who said they'd love to have the dog ignoring me I decided to drive the beast three hours to I-town. He puked on the way and hated riding in the car, but I had leather seats that were easy to clean and we made it.
Now he lives with my parents, and while he's never been a "good" dog he and my dad are good buddies. I'm sure his life is better in Indiahoma than it ever would have been with Sexy Chocolate, although he did end up getting hit by a car -- he survived.