Turns out he's a stray. So we keep him.
Turns out we moved next to a family (if you could call them that) of redneck cock-fighter and pit-bull breeders who were dirty, foul-mouthed, ignorant drunks, and carried guns to pay a visit....you get the picture.
One day a couple months later, Hannah was attacked by one of the pitbulls. Almost didn't make it. 118 stiches...just horrible. The dogs were horrible...we were afraid to ride our bikes down the road because the dogs would run out snarling and growling, and we had seen what happened to Hannah.
Ok, so a couple months later, on a Sunday, early in the morning, I was out front with the dogs. Hannah and Pogo nosing around in the front yard, when around the corner of the driveway come two snarling pitbulls heading right for Hannah. I got up screaming for my husband (asleep in bed) who came running out with a shovel. Before he could get there, Pogo attacked the dogs...I mean he literally had both of them in the ditch, one was on his back, the other he had by the throat and was thrashing him like a ragdoll. (I have never seen anything like this.) He threw that dog to the side and it went squealing and wimpering back to the hellhole it came from. And then he turned on the other dog. That other dog was a bloody mess and it ran home...I thought for sure it would die. Whew, what a rush. We never had any trouble again with the neighbors or their dogs. Pogo, what a dog.