For some time, I've been looking for a sibling of the same species for King. Elvis just doesn't get to hang out with other dogs nearly enough. So, after much internet searching (whenever I stress at work, I pull up Petfinder on my computer and look at dogs), I found a 5 year old black Lab mix with one of the local rescue groups. Saturday, King and I went to check out the pooch. His name is Count Mortimer and he's probably closer to 3 than to 5 years old. King and I adopted him on the spot.
Here's the first picture of him.
This is the second picture of him. As you can see, he's extremely high energy.
He just bounces off the walls.
One thing I have discovered is that trying to get Morty and Elvis to act in unison is a bit like herding cats. Scratch that. Herding cats is easier. On GOBA in 2004 I was given the task of getting 4 preteens to the severe weather shelter in Wooster, Ohio, when a nasty storm hit the campground. THAT was easier than trying to get King and Morty to do what I need them to do.
It's been quite some time since I took 2 large dogs for a walk. Granted, at only 59 lbs, Count Mortimer is a purse dog by my standards, but he knows how to use his weight and he is all muscle. King, at 79 lbs, is actually long and lean. Mort is compact. When we go out for a stroll, if the coonhound wants to stop and smell something stinky and the Count wants to keep going, I get the Braveheart treatment. Irresistible force meets the immovable object and my arms get ripped out of their sockets. Such fun.
When King and I adopted Morty, we got a free bag of some fancy pants dog food. Apparently, it is much richer than what Mort is used to. We spent most of Sunday out in the front yard. The mutts were on tie outs and I was using a pick ax, shovel, rake, and wheel barrow to even out a large, ugly hump in the yard.
King and Morty Eyeing the Neighbor's Cat
Last year, I had to have my sewer line dug up and replaced. I was advised to give it a year to settle before leveling it out. While I was doing this, Sir Poops a Lot discovered that his lead allowed him to wander into my neighbor's yard. While in said neighbor's yard, and before I could get to him, he pooped. A lot. I used to have a Great Dane that clocked in at 120 lbs. HE couldn't poop this much. In fact, I don't think a Clydesdale draft horse could do this much. 3 waste bags it took to clean this up and there was still a fair amount I couldn't get. I ended up singing a Nanci Griffith song under my breath as I was trying to scoop it up. It starts off, "Oh, I wish it would rain". Rain? I'm hoping for a fricking monsoon.
There is something that scares me about the Count. He is not afraid of his own farts. To me, that means he is used to tooting. King rarely does. He has spoiled me. The Count, however.....
In the morning, I'm taking Mortimer to the vet for a checkout. While there, I think I'll have to buy him a bed. I can't get him to sleep in the bed with King and me. Right now, he is snoozing on the floor.
Yes, that is one of my pillows under his head. If he won't come to the bed, then the bed will go to him.