found a soaking wet puppy by the bins three weeks ago. His name is Malcolm now and i think i saved him!
I don't really do posts like this but thought it was a valuable share.
Three weeks ago I was doing a tip run. Nothing exciting, just clearing out some stuff, the usual. It was a miserable day, grey and raining, the kind where you just want to get it done and get home.
This tiny scruffy cream thing, just... hovering around near the skips. Soaking wet, shaking, fur completely flat against him. No collar. Just these dark little eyes looking up at everyone coming and going like he was trying to figure out who was going to stop.
Honestly I don't think I even really made a decision. I just picked him up, put him in the car, and that was that. He didn't struggle or make a fuss. Just sat on my lap shaking and then gradually stopped shaking and I think that was the moment I was done for.
Took him to the vet the next morning to get scanned for a microchip. Sat in the waiting room genuinely not sure what I was hoping to hear. You want him to belong to someone because that means he was loved. But you also... don't want that. And you feel a bit awful about it.
So we did everything you're supposed to do. Posted on every local Facebook group we could find - lost pets pages, community groups, the neighbourhood one that's usually just people complaining about parking. Put up photos, asked people to share it, checked back constantly. Rang round the local shelters too. They were all kind but they were all full, and they all said the same thing: if no one comes forward, he's yours.
Somewhere in that two week window we'd started calling him Malcolm. I couldn't tell you why exactly, it just suited him. He's got this wild wiry fur that goes in about six directions at once and this expression that manages to be both completely ridiculous and oddly serious at the same time. Like a small scruffy professor who has been through some things.
Nothing big had happened to bring this about. No particular reason I was at that tip on that day other than it needed doing. Just a grey Tuesday and a wet puppy by a skip.
He's 17 weeks old now. He loves his cuddly toys, he loves sprawling out on the sofa next to me and watching trash TV. He loves his food!
Malcolm, welcome to the family and i'm so grateful you came into my life ♥️