Our canine friend made it through the night, so I loaded him into the truck and took him to the vet this morning. He was very reluctant and tried to back away when I put a leash on him, but I coaxed him into the truck with a few pieces of bacon, and he behaved like a perfect gentleman all the way to Santa Rosa.

The vet said Harvey looks pretty good, all things considered. He’s awfully skinny and dinged-up, but he doesn’t have any serious injuries, so as long as his bloodwork comes back clean, a couple of weeks’ worth of antibiotics and a few decent meals should put him right as rain.

I think he must have been somebody’s pet at one time, because he has very nice house manners. He hasn’t had any accidents at all, and once he decided it was safe to get in the truck, he sat right up on the passenger’s seat and looked out the window like he’d been riding shotgun his entire life. He’s not very good at walking on a leash, but I’m sure he’ll get the hang of it soon enough. He’s pretty cautious around me, but he adores Joey, who has put himself in charge of the dog-walking duties.

I can’t tell whether Harvey is afraid of me or just recognizes me as Alpha in our pack. I hope it’s the latter. Poor guy has had enough fear in his life. He doesn’t need any more.

— Sierra


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