By: Vickie Wentz/Vicki’s Voice
It’s just that I didn’t know you could inherit a dog. I mean, a necklace, a set of china, even a savings bond...but a dog?
Don’t get me wrong, she’s a really cute dog. A tiny white Maltese who was named by her first “mother” obsessed with the British royal family.
Hence, I’m now the proud - if slightly reluctant - owner of Lady Diana. The name is longer than the actual dog.
Anyway, no one was able to take Lady Di, and I do love her, and so does my dog, Gabby. But, Lady Di has a real Napoleon…or, Napoleonella…complex, and she will bark like she’s going to friggin’ take you apart, limb by limb. In reality, I don’t think she could take apart one actual limb.
So here we are, back to two dogs. Just when Gabby thought she’d be an only child for a while. Being the oldest of five children, I was hoping the same thing myself, for about thirteen months before my brother Jimmy came along. I saw no need for another child in the house - we were getting along just fine.
Yesterday, I introduced Lady Di to the folks at the veterinarian’s office. They were, of course, wonderful and Dr. Digadog made a huge fuss over her (why shouldn’t he; her care, along with Gabby’s, will help take his family to Cancun this summer).
We had her first check-up, and she needed a couple of shots, some itch medicine, and eye drops. Dr. D looked a tad disappointed that she’d recently had her teeth cleaned, but even if she hadn’t, I would have had to let a few fall out before I could afford another visit.
It’s all good now. I’m happy to have little Di in the house. She’s sleeping at the foot of the bed along with Gabby, who accepted the inevitable.
Plus, after fourteen years of having two dogs, it’s easy to fall back into the choreography it takes to walk them without becoming a tangled-up, self-strangulating cartoon character - not that I ever did that.
Having lived for years with one elderly lady, Di isn’t used to all the exercise and excitement at my house. There’s always someone coming and going.
Always someone taking her for a hike, or to a nearby dog park, and folks are over for dinner, or the grandchildren are wanting to pick her up and put her on beds, on couches, in the sink…in the doll buggy…in flowerpots.
Yes, Di spends her downtime sacked out - like me.
But, I’m happy. Two doggies. Life is good. Then, the phone rang yesterday.
My sister said, “Remember when you said that if ever Mom and Dad weren’t able to take care of Rosie any more, you wanted her? Well, I think that day is here. It’s just too much for them now, and we aren’t able to take her. When can you come to get her?”
OMG. Dr. D’s office is going to get a whole new wing.
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