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This Day in My History

  Wonderful! Wonderful!
  I Hate...
Catch a Falling Star

 When Plans Change
2004:  Why People Go Postal



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What's that little twerp doing taking MY bed?



"Two for the Price of One"

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Master list of links to (most) videos
by Mefeedia


19 November 2005 a bitch who has just been unceremoniously (I assume) separated from her ovaries.

We have taken post-spay dogs before, but usually our first meeting came after the operation had taken place, when they were still a little groggy; perhaps a little sore.   I thus became the soother of ruffled fur, the calmer of anxious nerves, the one who offered soft beds and good food to make up for the rude treatment the dog had just endured.

This is the first time that I have, myself, personally, delivered a nubile young female into the hands of someone wielding scalpel with evil grin and then had the now-sterile female return to the house again.

I am obviously no longer seen as Mother Teresa, but more Lucretia Borgia.

Oh, she played it cool, that Latte did.

She and Sheila greeted each other like best pals who had been separated for months.  Sheila had missed her a lot.  And Latte was delighted to be back among the toys, being dragged around on the big bed, and chasing Sheila across the yard.

She grinned at me when I fed her.  She used my stomach as a trampoline again, and one would think that all was as it had been.

However, beneath that gay and frivolous exterior there lurked
a canker-worm which was slowly but surely eating its way into
her very heart.

The worm exploded today.

"Remove MY overies, will you!" she silently cried as she left a huge pool of urine on the family room floor.

"Take away MY chances for babies," she snickered as she pooped her way across the family room, leaving a decorative gift smack dab in the center of the dog bed.

But she was just getting warmed up.

I can't tell you how many times I've tripped over her as she calmly positions herself at the last minute exactly where I plan to step.

I can't tell you how many times I've gone to roll my chair back so I can get up from my desk, only to roll over her because she has totally blocked all movement.

I can't tell you how many times I've had to drag her out of the garbage can when I leave the laundry room door open for a second.

I'm not sure how she figured out how to open the cupboard with all the cookie sheets in it, but I found her dragging a cupcake pan out.

She has hidden Kimba's food dish.

When I go to sit down, she takes a flying leap into the chair and I sit on her because I didn't see her jump.

She knocked a stack of videos and CDs off a table when she tried to jump over the back of the chair and missed.

This is all in one afternoon, mind you!

The topper came when there was a crash and I went out to the kitchen to find that she had tipped over the bin where I keep the dog food and she and Kimba were having a lovely time helping themselves to "dessert" (they had just finished dinner).

She has also started whining.  Not loudly, but this pathetic, barely perceptible whine, just enough to give you a good case of the guilties for whatever unforgiveable thing you have done to cause her pain.

I'm not sure who this changeling is but this isn't the sweet little dog who left here with her ovaries intact.

I suspect that what's happened is that she thinks she finally has found a home and it's time to test the limits around here.

Bwahahaha.  Joke's on her. 

Ashley picked the wrong time to write to me and ask me if I could write up a little blurb about Latte to publish when she makes her "pet of the week."

I told her that my first idea was,

"I used to be a good dog, but they removed my ovaries and now I like to pee on the floor and poop in my bed and get into the garbage.  I would love to come and live at your house."

But then I thought better of it.   I want this dog to find a home, and I didn't think that this was the very best sales pitch.  I am first and foremost a publicist, after all.

It's not all bad.  She's still cute, even if she does have some poop somewhere on her that I can't find, but can smell every time she lies down at my feet.

I washed the cover to the bed, that she'd pooped on.  While it was washing and drying, I had the bed outside to air.   When I went to put the cover back on it, I swear there was a line of dogs waiting for it to be put back on the floor again.  You'd think I had some liver biscotti to dole out.

The second the bed hit the floor, Latte made a flying leap and landed smack dab in the center of it, letting all know that this was HER domaine and she was not to be challenged.

So far she hasn't pooped on it again, but I figure it's only a matter of time.

Lemme tell you, I'm never removing a dog's ovaries again!

Please watch Steve's video about winning the Ovation award.  It still brings tears to my eyes to watch it.   I am so incredibly proud of those guys and so happy for them!


Woodland, CA

Latte came back from the vet's with a shaved belly,
a shaved leg, and a green ear.

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