Simson found us a stormy night Pesach -96.
He laid down on the doormat in the front of our house to protect himself from the rain.
We gave him some food and water.
Before we went to bed, my dad said that if he would remain there in the morning we might keep him.
The next morning we went to look if he was still there, but he wasn't.
Me and Josef went outside to look for him, but had to come home without him.
After a while our neighbors found him in their garden together with their dog "Marshmallow", and brought him to us.
So we kept him, gave him a bath, and called him "Simson" (that's Samson in swedish).
Simson was big, but behaved like a puppy, so he was probably about a year old, our younger. He was black, had long fur, and very charming. We played with him a lot and I even taught him some tricks. But then the problems started...
Since he had been a street dog (even though he was pedigree), he was very untrained. When we took him on walks he jumped around and bit the leash so after a while only me and my dad dared to go out with him, cause we're the only "dogpeople" in the family. Dad was only home in the evenings, so I had to take care of him all day long, and that was very hard. Then we found out that almost everyone in the family got lice (probably from him), and dad, who is allergic to animals with fur, started to feel sick. He never got sick from dogs before, only to rabbits, cats and animals like that.
We had to let Simson go, but he still remained next to our house. Later he dissapered, and we haven't heard from him since then.
