So, there's a stray dog living in my garage.
I found her this afternoon, though I'm pretty sure she was in there yesterday--I heard noises like something was moving around when I left for work, but assumed it was a raccoon or something. No idea what breed she is, although she looks like she's at least part Weimaraner, and just, augh. I don't think she's more than a few months old, no collar, obviously terrified, and I don't have any idea what to do. I'd like to bring her inside and give her a bath, but I have no way of knowing if she's been given shots or dewormed or anything, and I don't want to get Jerry sick. I'd love to take her to the vet and check for a microchip, get her checked to make sure she's safe to bring in the house, but if I get too close to her she spooks and runs. I've been bringing out food and water for her, left a blanket out there, and she trusts me more now than she did this morning--lets me get closer than she did when I first found her--but I don't want to push her and frighten her more, or push her and end up getting bitten out of fear. I called the Humane Society, but they aren't going to be able to send anyone out today and aren't sure about tomorrow, and anyway the thought of her in a pound makes me feel sick to my stomach. It's not that cold here, for once, and there's plenty of warmth and shelter in the garage, so her, you know, freezing to death overnight isn't a concern. I'm gonna keep checking on her and bringing her food, and I guess we'll see what happens.
If anyone on my flist has any experience with strays and rescue dogs, and can offer any tips, suggestions, pointers, anything, please for the love of god sing out. I'm flying blind here, and I'd hugely appreciate the help.
(Of course, then there's my father, who can always be counted upon to up the ridiculousness quotient of any situation:
My Father: Are you sure it's not a fox?
Me: Am I sure it's not a...yes, I'm sure she's not a fox, why would she be a fox?
My Father: You said she has pointy ears.
Me: Lots of dogs have pointy ears!
My Father: Well, so do foxes.
My Father: I'm just saying!
My Father: This is like that time when I thought the possum was a raccoon, isn't it.
This man is my flesh and blood, folks. No, I don't know either.)