One of our five refugee dogs is a small black bundle of stubbornness that we found sitting on a chair under the ARF (Animal Relief Fund) tent several years ago on one of their adoption days. He had been rescued in the Caney Fork area, where someone found him wandering the road, obviously homeless. Speculation was that students had abandoned him after their time at WCU came to an end. He sat in his chair as if he owned it, the tent, and the Wal-Mart parking lot. I can't remember how much he weighed at the time, but it was a lot less than he weighs now! (I hear him barking at the door, demanding to come in.)
The ARF volunteers had nicknamed him Road Warrior, and we soon discovered why--he liked to wander whenever he felt like it. He also liked to veg out on the sofa, or the bed, whenever he felt like it. He especially liked to snuggle into any clothes left lying about on the sofa, easy chair, or bed, and sometimes he was indistinguishable from them. Once, my husband ordered his dark flannel shirt to get off his chair. Well, the room was dark, and our eyesight is not what it used to be.
"Byron, get down," my husband ordered. Byron meanwhile was in the kitchen hoping for a snack. The shirt did not move. But then, if it had been Byron, he would not have moved either.
Yes, our daughter named him Byron. It seemed perfect for him, capturing his essence, so to speak. He lives according to his own rules and lets us know it whenever we expect him to live by ours.
He's still barking at the door, wanting his morning snack. I better go let him in!
