I’ll have a post about the house very soon, but first it’s Jabo’s fourth birthday.
Although we probably won’t get party hats and have a pizza party for the mutt, I thought I would at least go through some old photos and post them here. He’s a good dog despite of his overly energetic feeling of responsibility as a watch dog.
He and his litter mates were rescued by local expats. His mom is not a street dog, but she doesn’t get a great deal of care from her people. After giving birth, she was found walking the street with her uterus prolapsed outside her body.
Along with Jabo, we also adopted one of his sisters, Gracie. Gracie turned out to be nothing but mean, mean, mean. She even looked mean. We found a new home for her on a farm in the mountains. Here they are at about three weeks old just after we brought them home:
Jabo’s mother pretty much lives in front of the Hong Kong grocery store in town, frequently sleeping in a ball by the door. When I see her I always stop and pet her for a few minutes. Jabo’s dad has a wider circuit but I see him around now and then. Here they are:
Cynthia has had an intense disliked of dogs, indeed with reason, as she has been bitten three times in her life. But we needed a watchdog. He proved his worth to her at just three months old when he sounded out a “woof,” waking me from a deep sleep. Moments later, an intruder opened the window at the head of our bed and tried to enter the house. I’m thankful to have had the warning.
Cyn took to him with gusto, and while I worked on a project away from home, she spent hours and hours a day with him, teaching him commands such as sit, lie down, flat dog, and dance. He has so much energy that he just can’t get the hang of stay. One of his favorite games as a youngster was Drag a Dog.
The mutt melted Cynthia’s fear of dogs.
I knocked together a dog house for him:
I taught him the easy command. He loves popcorn:
One day Jabo found out the hard way that he couldn’t quite clear a five-foot barbed wire fence. Two surgeries and thirty stitches on the inside of his right rear thigh gave him pause the next time he thought about the fence:
Sometimes I have a fruit smoothie for lunch. Jabo loves to lick the glass clean. I tell Cynthia that it doesn’t need to be washed, but she is doubtful at best.
I liked this last photo so much that I painted it in watercolor:
This photo is on one of my little red wagon posts, but I like it enough to repeat it here:
I took this one today of Jabo sleeping on the sand pile. It’s a dog’s life for sure.
That’s all for now. Happy birthday Jabo!