The Little Stud Muffin

puppyA stranger driving a large Mercedes sedan with Nebraska license plates walked in our front doors with the tiniest little ball of black and white fur late one Saturday morning.  She stepped right up, plopped her pup down on the counter and pushed him towards me. “Here, I need you to take care of Bo, my little stud muffin” and she started to walk right out the door.  “Whoa, just a minute, did you have a reservation, has Bo been here before, does he have any shot records, have you filled out any paperwork telling us about your little pup, how old is he, is he neutered, where is his food, has he played with other dogs his age or size?”

My questions were endless because of the procedures we followed to assure that we had all the information we needed before a new dog walked through the door. She just looked back at me with a blank stare, not knowing one single answer to any of my questions, almost appearing to be lost in space or permanently on drugs.  She just kept pushing her pup towards me, demanding that we take “the little stud” for an undetermined length of time, not even knowing when she would return, or at all, we feared.  The whole situation was bizarre.

He had a collar much too big for him with tags on it, but she assured us that the dog was from a reputable breeder in her home town and we could get everything we needed from them.  As she strutted towards her fancy car sitting out in our parking lot, she quickly blurted out a story that didn’t add to our comfort level.  She had just gone through a recent divorce with her mean, cruel husband and said to be on the lookout, as he might be coming after her and Bo.  Without even a quick glance back at us, she peeled out of the parking lot while we stood there holding the little fella, completely in shock.

A sick feeling came over us, knowing we were holding a dog we knew nothing about.  Had the woman stolen this dog from her ex-husband?  What would we do if he showed up?  She couldn’t possible be Bo’s owner…she didn’t know one thing about the sweet little pup. Sure enough, a web search showed there was no breeder by that name and we discovered that the dog tags on the collar belonged to a completely different kind of dog, an older dog with a different last name and a description that didn’t fit little Bo’s description in any way, shape or form.

We shifted gears into detective mode and exhausted every possible explanation of what might be going on.  We couldn’t find any proof that this woman even existed online nor could we find a mean, cruel husband with the same last name living in Nebraska.  So we took little Bo on a drive to the Denver Dumb Friends League and checked to see if he had an identifying chip.  It was a waste of time, with no helpful chip found inside the pup. They suggested leaving him there, but we had fallen in love with the little guy and returned to The Pooch. Their advice was that no matter what, we shouldn’t give Bo back to his weird and wacky owner without proof of his ownership.

Imagine our surprise when one week later she pulled right up to the door, like she had been gone for only a day or so, and demanded to pick up “the little stud.” We shared the findings of our shrewd detective work with her, expecting her to be surprised at our findings.  She still demanded her dog but we stood strong, the almighty protectors of little Bo.  With the same swift departure as before, she was out the door in a huff.  Within a short time, several police cars showed up and a detective walked in the door from the nearby sub-station and asked us why we wouldn’t return her dog.  Police showing up at our place was a first for us and we were shocked they would get involved in this potential dog-napping.

We filled in the detective with everything we didn’t know about the pup and shared the Dumb Friends League suggestion with him, demanding proof of Bo’s ownership. The detective went out to talk with the bizarre woman, and after what seemed like an eternity, he came in shaking his head and said he had checked everything out and she had no criminal records, lived where her drivers license said she did and that we should just return little Bo, so this dingbat could drive away from Denver, back home to Nebraska and away from all of us.

We had no choice but to go along with the detective’s advice, but it made us sick to know that Bo was going home with someone that might not be his owner, or possibly not even care about him. But as we had known from the research we had just done, that dogs are just considered personal property, with a value of about $200, per Colorado laws. Dogs have very few rights, and owners can pretty much do anything they want with them.  What a disgusting view of how our state values the life of an animal, just personal property, practically worthless.

We always thought that each of our pooches that visited us, were worth the sun and stars in the sky, with no possible limit to their value and more importantly, their rights as living beings.  We loved each one as if they were our own, especially the little stud muffin named Bo.


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