Coke is a bit slow anyway. He has a low IQ, as measured by a test, and cannot read or write. He has lived alone for most of his 78 years. He makes a few dollars from feeding a neighbor farmer's stock animals and clearing weeds. And he gets an allowance from a lawyer who has power of attorney. The lawyer receives Coke's pension money directly from Uncle Sam. He has other "clients" like Coke, people who can't care for themselves and who need a little help managing their finances. The nice lady who does welfare checks on Coke says the lawyer is a slimeball who has built a thriving business on this model. This is all he does.
Nice Lady took PeeWee to the vet's office to be spayed under a program that funds pet neutering for their indigent owners. Karie's boss happened to be there picking up meds for one (or several) of her 17 dogs. She overheard Nice Lady say that her friend Coke already had another small dog and was a little overwhelmed. She was also concerned over the unsanitary conditions of Coke's living space and the long-term impact on PeeWee's health. (The first dog, evidently, had bolstered his immune system over time and was resistant to hazards posed by this microenvironment.) PeeWee has a condition called cherry eye* and Nice Lady was worried that it might worsen. She asked if anyone knew of someone who might adopt little Georgina (the dog's name before I changed it for reasons obvious to me, if to no one else) after the procedure. Karie's boss volunteered Karie, who had recently lost her beautiful Red Heeler. Done deal.
Nice Lady was thrilled and said it was the Lord's Will that we were all brought together. Karie's boss said it was definitely meant to be. I think things happen for no reason at all mostly, but I'm not starting a fight over it.
Why Coke is called Coke, I don't know, but after the spaying I arranged a meeting with him and Nice Lady at the vet's office so that he could properly sign PeeWee over to me. He scratched an "X" at the bottom of the release form after being told what it read. We shook hands (his was very callused) and he wept a little. He had a beard like a Duck Dynasty guy and it was quivering too. She's a real good girl, he said.
She is half Chihuahua + half Boston Terrier. Bostons are referred to as the American Gentleman because it looks like they are wearing a tux. She has hers on. I'm glad that she doesn't have the Boston's pushed-in face, though. She is half Piddly's size but twice as bossy. He is used to being beta dog, so no big deal. Her Chihuahua side dictates that she rule the roost. We bow and scrape but are happy to serve her. She doesn't bite adults or children, which alleviates worry over lawsuits. And she barks like a banshee at knocks on the door and at people she sees on the sidewalk from her cushion-throne on the front room couch. We choose to view this positively, in that she's a good watchdog.
Chihuahuas live to be 16 or 17. Her teeth tell us she's only 2 so we've got her for a while.
*Cherry eye is a disorder of the nictitating membrane (NM), also called the third eyelid, present in the eyes of dogs and cats. Cherry eye is most often seen in young dogs under the age of two. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cherry_eye