The story of Debo goes like this:
A few years ago at my company picnic, there was a Miniature Pinscher running around. He didn't belong to anyone at the picnic. One guy grabbed him and went up and down the houses along the road, looking for the owners. No one claimed him. Patty said that we would foster him for awhile and try to find the owners.
In the next few weeks, we tried everything we knew to try to find the owners. We emailed the animal rescue sites, contacted police, put up posters and talked to the residents in the area where he was found. Again, NO ONE claimed him.
After a month of trying with no results, we decided that he would remain ours, as our new pet. We decided upon the name Debo because Patty's ex-husband out in California has a Mini-Pin named Debo. So we had West Coast and East Coast Debo.
He has been a very loving little boy. The first week we had him, he jumped up on me, wrapped his arms around my neck, and put his face right on the side of my face. I didn't think we would be having him very long, as maybe the owners would contact us, so I said to him, "Don't make me love you. You're not gonna be here that long." Well, as things have turned out, he has stayed with us, and still hugs me to this day. He has become "Momma's boy," as he is always cuddled up with her, flopped on his back on her lap.
Also in that first week, he met Sparkles, our little girl Yorkie. She let him know in no uncertain terms that "I am the Queen, and you WILL bow down!" Yorkies are like that, always wanting to dominate bigger dogs. Since then, they have been joyful playmates, as long as Debo doesn't get too rough with Sparkles. When he does, she definitely lets him know.
At first Debo had a bit of separation anxiety. Patty and I would go out to do some shopping and Debo would end up tearing up something if we didn't make the house "Debo-safe". Eventually, he got the idea that we were coming back, and that he didn't have to be THAT worried, so he doesn't tear into things anymore.
I describe Debo as a spastic 4 year old. He is high-energy, loves going to the dog park and meeting new friends, and runs everywhere, even in the house. We both wish we had his energy.
Funny story: one day I had to go into the backyard to retrieve Debo because he wouldn't come into the house when I called him. So I go in the back, and I see him flip something into the air. I ask him, "What do you have now?" It turns out that he was playing with a dead MOUSE! I told Patty about it, and she gave him a little nickname called Mouse Mouth. I haven't seen him terrorizing the local mouse population since then, but I have no doubt that he has.
We never expected to have three dogs in the house, but he has been a perfect fit. The nearest that we can figure out is that someone dumped him out on the road and didn't want him anymore. Sad, but with a happy ending for us. I take great pride that he no longer has to worry about being safe, food, shelter, or love.