Here is Winston. He is Liz and Ron’s bulldog. He is from a rescue shelter where he has lived much of his life. He has some gastrointestinal issues that don’t make him a prime candidate for adoption. That is unless you’re Liz and Ron, who seem to thrive on bringing home the neediest of the needy dogs. Luckily, Winston has flourished under their care and, though he still has issues (we don’t need to go into those), he is otherwise doing great. When they got him, you could count his ribs. Now he has a near-perfect little bulldog body.
I am sleeping in their mini-house here at the orange grove with my dogs, Cordelia and Frankie. I was a little nervous about exactly how these three would get along, but after the initial moment when we walked in – and Winston peed on the floor marking his territory, I believe – we didn’t have any more problems. (Except for me having to clean up all that pee, of course.) Normally, Cordie would try to be the alpha dog, but I think Winston’s bulk put the kibosh on that. Cordelia gave him a good look, then curled up and went straight to sleep. When I finally climbed into bed last night, Winston jumped on the bed and came up right next to me. He then buried his head in my armpit, breathed deeply, and started to snore. He got up a couple of times in the night and headed for the doggie door, but my dogs didn’t stir. Winston returned and leaped back on the bed, but nobody even shifted. I think they figured out right off that he was not going to hurt them and they could relax and let him do the guarding. Not that he appears to guard, but he might become protective if someone unexpectedly showed up.
Liz and Ron’s little place is cozy and warm. We are all snuggled up as if we’re ready for complete hibernation. My eyes are closing. After all, it is 9:30 pm on a Saturday night.
Good night to all. I will be checking in again tomorrow.