It was supposed to be just another lazy Sunday until a loud knock from the door startled me out of bed and forced me to get dressed. “Just a minute,” I shouted as I struggled to shimmy pants past my ankles. No response. I started to dress a bit faster, bellowing another update as I made my way to do the door.
As I flung the door open I expected to be greeted, but instead found no one, only a box of pet supplies and a small crate. I’ve seen enough Disney and Lifetime movies to know exactly what was going on: I just became a new dad. I quickly dashed to the middle of the street to see if I could catch a glimpse of anyone walking off. Nothing.
I looked around for a letter, clues, anything left that could hint where this little bundle of joy came from. Not even a footprint. My attention turned to the crate and the little cries coming from inside. I opened it slowly and with a bit of caution.
From the crate emerged a pair of large eyes and tiny head, and suddenly a tiny chihuahua puppy came stumbling out. Still in shock, I gave her a quick look-over to make sure she was in good health and brought her inside. Over the course of a few days I bathed her, put her on a feeding schedule, played with her, and brought her to the office. I’m already looking into a veterinary visit, too, and gave her a name: Penelope.
Aside from the obvious question, “where did she come from,” the burning question I have for whoever left her is: “what were you thinking?” I mean sure, I already have a small dog of the same exact breed, and yes, they look ridiculously cute running around together. I would have said “yes” regardless, I love animals, but it’s pretty bold to dump a brand new life on someone without any notice. Bold or stupid, Penelope can’t decide.
