16 March, 2014

Four dogs

Thomas was out of town for a little while in January. Now, I don’t want you to think that the minute I dropped him off at the airport I ran and got a foster dog. BUT, and I like big buts, when I was doing a transport of a dirty, smelly, schlubby-tubby, black and tan Cocker Spaniel who just happened to have the same name as my brother-in-law, I accidentally-on-purpose brought him home with me.

Willie, as I called him, was fat. How fat, you ask. Verry fat indeed, for a dog. He weighed in at 42 pounds when his ideal weight is somewhere between 30 and 32. He was so fat he had a fat pad over his stubby little tail and was the same shape as a barrel. He also had icky, stinky ears that I was treating the entire time he was with me. Willie was the sweetest dog you could imagine. He just wanted everyone to be his friend and love on him. He also had a hilarious habit of howling, as if he was a coyote, nose up in the air, saying “aaaarrrrrrrrroooooo.” Willie did NOT look all wild and sleek like your average wolf or coyote.
 That is Willie, after a nice wash and clip.
As you can see, he is not a wolf. He's a cute and cuddly fat Cocker Spaniel.
By the time he was adopted, he was feeling much better. He had already lost 2.5 pounds, his ears were cleaner/less infected, and he had a cute haircut. His new family is perfect for him and he’s perfect for them. They are an older couple and the gentleman wanted a lowkey companion to hang out with him and his other spaniel. They sent me pictures and he has a new haircut and loves his new brother doggie.
Thomas liked Willie too, but we are at capacity for right now. But there was a dog that needed a place to stay for a week. His name was Nero, and he’d been at the kennel for too long, suffering from an infected tooth. He stayed for one week at Chez Nous. He’s a Little Old Man Dog ™. I think that all black Cocker Spaniels eventually turn into Little Old Man Dogs ™ if they live long enough. He was deaf, blind, and had a little dementia. He also looked so much like Marley and Jake, our late Little Old Man Dogs ™. Is there a factory somewhere turning out tiny, frail black dogs who are the canine equivalent of Mr. Jones in room 401, who can’t hear or see much, but totters around all the time on his walker, inching into rooms and forgetting what he came for, bumping into things, and loudly complaining if dinner isn’t served on time and if they run out of rice pudding before he gets his meal? That was all three of the Little Old Man Dogs ™ I have known.
Four days after I delivered Nero to his foster mom, he died peacefully in his sleep. My heart is broken a little more, but I thank all that is good and holy that he died in a home, having known some kindness and care, rather than in a lonely kennel.
We are now back down to our own two dogs, Punkin and Sparky. After our weeks of three dogs, having only two feels like a walk in the park. I am getting lots of reading done, and need to get back to quilting. My mother has been waiting for her bed quilt for a long time!

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