Enter Tiny Tim

The lady at the swap meet said he was house-broken. I wasn’t going to take the chance. She also said he was about 5 to 7 years old. I pulled out a crate from the garage and set it up for him. Besides, I also had to introduce him in a safe way to the cats. Did he even like cats? Time would tell.

Him and Bear-Bear fell instantly in love with each other. Her tail started wagging and her eyes brightened up with curiosity and life in general.

Now, originally (or un-originally) his name was Tiny. But when we went for a walk, or he got tired running around in the backyard, he would start to limp on a back leg. Off to the vet we went. X-rays showed nothing wrong or out-of-place. Re-assured we went back home and wondered “what”?

We continued to take him out for walks around the block, and he still limped after a while, so we would pick him up, talk nonsense to him, all the while cuddling him all the way home. One day we were almost home, and he started limping again. sigh. Then something kinda funny happened, and I noticed that it was the other hind leg that was affected! Curious for sure. Went to a different dog-doctor, x-rays again, and were told that there was nothing wrong with him.

This is how he earned the moniker “Tiny Tim”. He deliberately would limp so he would get picked up and made a fuss of. It took a few years of ignoring that limp, that plea for extra attention, that he finally gave up and never limped again.

There’s more to write about, but that’ll have to wait.

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