When we set out for our evening walk, I didn't think at first that we'd get very far. Dark clouds looked ominous, and we even felt a few raindrops.
I started to turn back then, but decided to keep going until I knew if it would really start raining. It didn't, so we kept going. We walked all the way down to the creek, so Rylea could get herself a drink, and cool off a bit. It wasn't really that hot, but it was very humid. By the time we got to the creek, I was soaked, but I joked that it wasn't sweat. It was condensation.
Somewhere along the way, we picked up this guy
He's a little foxhound. He didn't have a collar on, or any tattoos or anything. He was thin, but didn't appear to be starving. He was full of ticks, though, and appeared to have been shot in the behind with a shotgun.
He's a real sweet thing, and very obedient. We waded in the creek a bit, then headed home.
I figured the little foxhound just wanted some company, and when we went home, he'd head back to his home. He didn't. He followed us all the way home. I gave him some food and water, and tried to get him to come into the house. He wouldn't.
Tomorrow, if he's still around, I'll call the radio station to run an ad, and I'll put one up at the vet's office. I'd thought that if no one claimed him, I'd keep him, but now I'm not so sure. He needs to be with someone who will hunt with him. That's what these dogs are bred for.