Lewis, the Rescue Dog

On Good Friday, we loaded the family in the van (or as I've started calling it "Jughead") for a trip to the wilds of Northwestern Pennsylvania to the Pekingese Rescue that Nancy found. She has decided that for her ##th birthday (I'm not allowed to divulge the exact number under penalty of death), she wanted a dog; a little dog. Everyone else in our family has dogs that resemble Shetland Ponies more than dogs, so almost any dog is a small dog. My criteria is a bit different and cruder. If the dog's poops are bigger than mine (and that's saying something), I don't want it .

Anyway, we get the dog from the rescue; which is a whole other blog post; and make it home. He's a sweet, quiet dog (except for his snoring) and he's checked out "A-OK" with the vet, had a bath and a trim. After close to a week, I'm happy we got the perfect dog for us.

Clay has been telling everyone he knows that Lewis is a "rescue dog". We told him how another family had Lewis who's new baby was allergic to him and that he was given to the Pekingese rescue. We then found him and brought him into our family. Then yesterday I heard Clay telling our neighbor about Lewis being a "rescue dog". It wasn't until I did a double take and really started listening to him that I found out what Clay thought a "rescue dog" was.

"Lewis is a Rescue Dog!", says Clay.

"What does that mean?", asks his friend.

"You know, a Rescue Dog. He helps people and other animals and he can talk to them."

"What?!"

"Well, you know, he talked to the Easter Bunny the other day. He told him that he liked his new family. The Easter Bunny wrote us a letter and told us", says Clay.

"Cool!"

"Yea, so whenever an animal needs help, Lewis the Rescue Dog will be there."

Now, I think we need to get a cape and a mask for Lewis to protect his identity.