I picked up a Jack Russell terrorist on a three day 4th of July weekend once. He was running down the street scared of the fireworks all around him. I got him calmed down and in the truck and took him home. He rewarded me by destroying two pheasant mounts, a brand new Redwing work boot, and two throw rugs within the first half hour. Having him around was like popping popcorn with the lid off the pan.
I kept him until the following Tuesday morning when the message I left at the local Humane Society got to his owner. I was utterly relieved when the owner picked him up and the house was peaceful again. It was a week later that I went to the Humane Society to fill that huge hole that he left behind. How did a dog that small dig, chew, and rip that big of a hole in my life so bloody fast?
R.I.P. you little bugger. If there's no dogs allowed in heaven I wanna go where the dogs are.