Waiting For Doggo

By some celestial co-incidence, I had just waved away my sister’s dog after a couple of weeks of dog-sitting, when I read ilegirl’s post about her own pooch.

Nana, as the dog is called, was rescued from Athens, Greece, just before the Olympics by a dog-rescue charity. The mother of a friend of my sister was one of the volunteers involved (the Greeks were going to round up all the strays and kill them to make the place look nice for the Olympic Tourists) and my Sister had recently lost (lost being the euphemism for deceased) her previous dog, Fanny, and was receptive to the adoption of another.

Nana the Dog in Barking Mad T-Shirt

As a street dog we have no idea what breed (or mixture) she is, nor how old. The Vet thinks she may be 8 or 9, based on the condition of her teeth. She still has a few street-dog traits, such as hiding her treats around the house, and sleeping in confined spaces or under furniture. She is fairly small, small enough to be convenient hand luggage when wearing her harness.

Sleeping Dog, Lying

My Sister lives in London, and ironically, not far from the proposed site of the 2012 Olympics, and being an urbane urbanite, goes on fancy foreign holidays. When the Sister is away the Nana comes to stay with me.

Why Nana? Well Nana Mouskouri was one of my father’s favourite singers (and Greek) and the dog is a daft nana.

Nana and blanket

~ by @mmonyte on June 2, 2008.

3 Responses to “Waiting For Doggo”

  1. What a cute pooch, looks both Greek and with attitude like ol’ Don Corleone I can almost hear him say “I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

  2. What a little darling! She is also portable – would fit nicely in my tote bag.

    The muscle tee, however, looks a bit out of character.

  3. The T-Shirt is a consideration to her Mediterranean origins – that photo was taken back in February in a British wood.

    Could do with a dog in the garden right about now. Young birds are fledging, and local cats are out on the hunt. I can hear a Blackbird’s alarm call as I type this comment. I’ve already hurled an (empty) milk bottle (plastic) at one moggy this morning.

    She’s no mafia boss – she has the sweetest temperament you could wish for!

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