Well, Loki has arrived in my home. His paperwork is scarce: it labels him as 1yr, 3mos old and 52lbs. This is obviously incorrect; at least, the weight is. If Loki weighs more than my friend's 2yr old child I will eat my stinky, stinky left shoe. He can't weigh much more than 30lbs. Though his fur is extremely thick and lustrous, this pup is underfed and underdeveloped; his haunches are practically flat.
He had some major separation sadness when Lisa and Meaghan dropped him off; he whined and pranced and pawed at the door for quite a while. When I managed to distract him, a moment's inattention returned him to his mourning activities. It took hours for him to settle down.
I bought him food, a dish, a leash, a name tag, flea treatment, and some basic treats. Lisa & Meaghan spoiled him: they bought him a harness to make walking him easier, a squeaky striped rubber thing, a big red kong, and his favorite:
...a plush goose, which has a squeaker in it. I assume the squeaker was meant to sound like a duck or goose call but, in fact, it sounds more often like a funny funny funny fart.
Loki is convinced he is a lap dog. He keeps climbing up the chair I prefer to sit in and, when I do not allow him to settle into my lap, draping himself awkwardly over the back of the chair so that he is "sitting" on my head and shoulders.
He was calmly sleeping on the floor just a moment ago, but I made the mistake of acknowledging one of his foster cat-buddies, which finally emerged from hiding; now he is dashing back and forth with Fart Duck, wagging his tail and trying to hide it in the couch.
