They returned home with stories about how Pud didn’t want to go to her because she seemed annoyed with him bothering other people while at the same time not caring about where he’d been, and how they had given him the totally wrong name, and how he was afraid of Tristan’s stick instead of wanting to play with it, and it does seem that he really really really wants us to be his new family… and though I can definitely vouch for the latter I know better than to completely believe she wouldn’t miss him or doesn’t deserve him, and he is a very well fed dog. He has them bewitched and no owner would be worthy of him in their eyes apart from the ones Pud chooses. Besides, we’re already pretty squeezed into this small home and Pud’s still a puppy – promises to grow to a small horse some day with an appetite likely to match even Tristan’s. Pud knows the way here now and comes to visit the boys to make double sure we don’t want to keep him… oh man. Nathan says, “Just three more visits and we have to keep him.”

A dog that chooses you is the best dog to have, and even better if adopted on an epic journey across the continent so he can hang his big doggy tongue out the window as cars and trucks blow past us…and even better that he comes from the little town of Marathon, a town we love almost as much as Pud.

Every now and then Nathan looks at me with puppy eyes, telling me about how he loves Pud as much as “5″, then wanders them off in the distance sadly for a moment but then a big smile floods across his face and his eyes sparkle, making fractionally small darts around and I can see him playing over future memories of us and Pud, Pud and us, etcetera etcetera… he keeps on hoping.

Oh Pud. You have us all muddled!