Mom CB's 17 y.o. pooch and constant companion went to Doggie Heaven last week. The loss has been tough on her.
So as a surprise and fill-in for the emptiness she feels, we want to give her a puppy.
The departed cutie was a Maltese hairball girly dog, 6 pounds soaking wet. Maltese aren't popular dogs in the DR.
But Yorkies are. I had a Yorkie many years ago and enjoyed him thoroughly (Yorkie story to follow.) They are common in the DR.
If anyone has a contact with a Yorkie breeder, please pass on the info, PM's are OK if you prefer. We prefer a mild-mannered female. Does not have to have official papers, and does not have to be perfectly conforming. We just want Mom CB to have a good constant companion for her remaining earth tenure.
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Yorkie story:
When I was playing ball many years ago, my neighbor got a very young Yorkie pup named Brute. One afternoon she asked me if I'd look after Brute for a couple of hours and I agreed because he was such a cute, lovable furball.
She disappeared. Literally. Missing person, never found as far as I know.
So I chose to keep Brute and he went everywhere with me...including the locker room. The guys loved having a little dog running around. He grew into quite the little Tough Guy.
My FL off-season apartment was on a lake---well, really, a large retention pond---and was the home to many ducks. Many residents, including me, would feed them chunks of old bread. So when you walked outside toward the lake the duck would flock toward you.
First time I tool Brute for a walk toward the lake, the duck came waddling our direction. This time a momma duck had her chicks in tow. As she got closer Brute, being the tough guy, rocketed toward her yapping like an angry spousal unit.
Momma duck was none too pleased, nor patient. As Brute got closer, she lit into him, a whirlwind of noise, feet, flapping wings and general battlefield commotion causing Brute to reconsider his plan. He turned, tucked tail and ran to the safety of the sidewalk with this fowl whirling dervish literally nipping at his butt. Safety assure, our momma duck allowed Brute an honorable retreat...straight to the sidewalk where, in mortal fear and trauma, proceeded to squat-walk while pooping, literally having had the poop scared out of him.
He never chased another duck.
RIP, Brute. You were tougher than woodpecker lips. Except to that duck...
So as a surprise and fill-in for the emptiness she feels, we want to give her a puppy.
The departed cutie was a Maltese hairball girly dog, 6 pounds soaking wet. Maltese aren't popular dogs in the DR.
But Yorkies are. I had a Yorkie many years ago and enjoyed him thoroughly (Yorkie story to follow.) They are common in the DR.
If anyone has a contact with a Yorkie breeder, please pass on the info, PM's are OK if you prefer. We prefer a mild-mannered female. Does not have to have official papers, and does not have to be perfectly conforming. We just want Mom CB to have a good constant companion for her remaining earth tenure.
****************
Yorkie story:
When I was playing ball many years ago, my neighbor got a very young Yorkie pup named Brute. One afternoon she asked me if I'd look after Brute for a couple of hours and I agreed because he was such a cute, lovable furball.
She disappeared. Literally. Missing person, never found as far as I know.
So I chose to keep Brute and he went everywhere with me...including the locker room. The guys loved having a little dog running around. He grew into quite the little Tough Guy.
My FL off-season apartment was on a lake---well, really, a large retention pond---and was the home to many ducks. Many residents, including me, would feed them chunks of old bread. So when you walked outside toward the lake the duck would flock toward you.
First time I tool Brute for a walk toward the lake, the duck came waddling our direction. This time a momma duck had her chicks in tow. As she got closer Brute, being the tough guy, rocketed toward her yapping like an angry spousal unit.
Momma duck was none too pleased, nor patient. As Brute got closer, she lit into him, a whirlwind of noise, feet, flapping wings and general battlefield commotion causing Brute to reconsider his plan. He turned, tucked tail and ran to the safety of the sidewalk with this fowl whirling dervish literally nipping at his butt. Safety assure, our momma duck allowed Brute an honorable retreat...straight to the sidewalk where, in mortal fear and trauma, proceeded to squat-walk while pooping, literally having had the poop scared out of him.
He never chased another duck.
RIP, Brute. You were tougher than woodpecker lips. Except to that duck...
