Izzy

Izzy is our little rescue dog. He looks for all the world like an American Eskimo Dog, but weighs less than ten pounds, so I suspect there’s some Pomeranian in there as well. Like a Pom, he hates getting his feet wet. He’d strayed up a home on my niece’s mail delivery route. The homeowner was kindly fostering him but hunting a home. We’d recently lost our darling dog, so we ended up with him.

He’s adorable, so sweet and loving but has one quirk. He’s a runaway. I suspect that’s how we ended up with him. Given the slightest chance, he flees. He likes for us to follow him till he gets his run out, staying a couple of hundred yards ahead. When he’s journeyed far enough, he welcomes a ride home.

He’s a great lap-sitter and kisser. He’s fascinated with my glasses. One evening I took them off, laying them on my table. In a flash, he’d grabbed them, prepared to munch them up. Fortunately, I caught him in time. A few nights later, I knocked them off my nightstand. They bounced under my bed. I left them, thinking I’d retrieve in the morning when they were nowhere to be found. Then I discovered them where he’d hidden them in the bed, the earpieces chewed to a fare-thee-well. My new ones should be in Wednesday.