Tallulah, my Carin Terrier needed a companion. I found a group that handled only Carin Terriers and began the adoption process. I received a 17 page questionnaire. Was I trying to adopt a dog or applying to Harvard graduate school? I heard back from them – I didn’t qualify. What?!!? I called and an officious sounding volunteer huffed, ‘On page 12 of our questionnaire you admitted to leaving your dog off-leash. We can’t have that!” I felt like Michael Vik! I t assured her that I lived in a no-car neighborhood – IN THE COUNTRY!! I pleaded, ‘Did you notice that every dog, cat and bird that ever lived with me died of old age??’
A small dog rescue organization contacted me, ‘We have a cute Carin Terrier mix.’ I looked at a blurry picture of a terrier. Now why didn’t I notice he really didn’t look Carin-ish in the least?
Her truck driver husband would meet me half-way between Oklahoma and Ann Arbor at the loading dock of a car assembly plant. My first impression of the dog was, ‘he looked like a carnie’. Not a showbiz dog who worked in a circus– but those tough guys with nicotine stained fingers with a pack of cigarettes rolled up in their tee-shirt sleeve - the guys who run the Tilt-a-Whirl.’ Yikes!
What part of Carin Terrier was this dog? He had an odd mix of hair – and fur. The hair covered the top of his body, his feet and half of his long curled up tail – it looked like a bad toupee! On the top of his head was a two- tone floppy Mohawk and he had an under-bite. He also looked like a Wookie from Star Wars – but not in a good way.
He peed on my car tire, jumped in the car and sat on my lap. Who could resist?
Jake and Tallulah are both 11. Jake’s hair still looks like a bad toupee. Maybe I should change his name to ‘Trump’?
ann arbor, MI