Oddball

 Yet again, a dog has decided that he lives with me. Weird. Everywhere I go, some dog eventually moves in. 

In this case, the dog is Brownie, who in fact lives just down the street but does not seem to find this arrangement agreeable. Brownie, as a name, seems all too obvious. I mean, he is brown, but the name doesn't seem to fit who he is. I call him Oddball. I swear, the dog is autistic or something. He rarely meets my eyes, often stares into space, or eagerly tracks the movement of something that seems not even to exist, and tends to seek out somewhat odd sleeping arrangements, such as on the bathroom floor or under a chair. He does not want to be touched or petted or really approached at all. He does not respond to words, and certainly has no idea what his name is. He will not take food from my hand, preferring that it be thrown in his direction, and when it does land near him, he carefully examines the item, a bit of chicken for instance, sniffs it thoroughly, and then very gingerly takes it in his teeth as if it might suddenly explode like a trick cigar or something. If I happen to see Brownie, or rather Oddball, out on the street, he pays me no attention whatsoever, gives no sign of recognition, but simply walks on by. And he is, as far as I have seen, like this with everyone. 

Oddball is a new father, and the gossip around the neighborhood is that his wife is galak, which means grumpy, fierce, troublesome. So perhaps that has something to do with why he keeps showing up in my quiet little house.