My Life Continues to Be Full of Minor Disasters

A number of years ago when I married I also inherited a Beagle.  Quiggly was the Beagle's name.  Quiggly was a fun Beagle; she used to watch old "Perry Mason" reruns with me and I would read to her.  Four years ago we lost her due to illness and three days later we got a new Beagle on Veteran's Day named Abigail.  Abigail is also known as the beast.  She has killed baby squirrels as well as getting the tip of the tail of an adult and she hates cats.  She does not much care for other dogs or humans, a lot like myself in some ways.  Well time went by and about three months ago she went nuts at something outside the front of our house so after about an hour, at midnight, we put her on a leash to go find out what it was that was upsetting her and there, out the darkness in the pouring rain came a black blob; it ame closer and closer then suddenly my wife cried out, "Its a Basset Hound."  I felt its neck and as suspected no collar or tags.  I said to it, "Come on boy," and he followed me into the porch where we had enough light to examine him.  He had some sores and fleas and was in my estimation under weight.  We treated his sores the best we could; we fed him; and we created a bed for him out on the porch.  We were then about to find out how miserable this hick town we had moved to could really be.