I hate getting into all the drama involved with Jerry’s family. Since Monday night I’ve been taking care of my mother-in-law’s dog, a seven year old male Shih-Tsu with one brown eye and one blue one, who seems to have a thing for interspecies love. Either that, or the female dogs in the house are just a tad bit too tall for the logistics to work out for him. Perhaps it’s “any port in a storm.” I feel sorry for the poor little guy. I mean, if I had to abide by truth in advertising I’d have to describe him as follows:
12 lbs., no nuts, one blue eye, one brown eye, likes to dance for food, and hump small, old black cats.
He’s lived with my mother-in-law for the past two years, but now my father-in-law (aka: Taco Tuesday, because he will only go to Taco Bell on Tuesday – when they have the 59 cent per taco special for senior citizens) doesn’t want to take care of the dog any more. She can’t because she’s confined to a wheelchair, which completely sucks- both for her, and the poor dog.
I have to wonder about the logic of offering discounts on tacos to old people who wear dentures, and whose sensitive GI tracts shouldn’t be overwhelmed with Mexican food to begin with, but Dad’s 65, wears dentures, and snarfs down Mexican food like it’s going out of style, so perhaps there is more to the geezer-Mexican food connection than I understand. Maybe the old geezers prize the ability to fart copious green clouds of death-gas, or maybe that’s how they find their way back home. Just follow the noxious green cloud.
In all fairness, in most regards, the dog is not a bad little guy. Unlike the Jack Russell who stayed with us for a couple of days (thank God we found him a home with the quickness!) and almost drove Clara and me insane, he’s pretty mellow for an ankle-biter. He’s very pleasant and is good about going out with the other dogs and he gets into the routine fairly well. I gave him a bath last night, which he acted like he enjoyed. I am generally not terribly fond of ankle-biters (we have large dogs- large female dogs- for a reason) but for being both an ankle biter and a male, he’s actually pretty sweet, except for occasionally humping poor Isabel. Isabel is our thirteen year old, five-pound black cat. Isabel is extremely laid back and not usually phased by dogs, at least when they’re not humping her. So for the sake of poor Isabel’s sanity, I’d like to find him a little more suitable situation.
That’s one reason why I prefer female dogs- they generally don’t hump things. Female dogs tend to be generally smarter, a bit healthier, and live longer than their male counterparts. I also prefer large dogs because not too many people will screw with you when you are with a large dog, even if the large dog in question is harmless. Sheena is a good example of a large dog who is completely harmless- uncoordinated, doesn’t know a stranger, and is nearly toothless anyway- but from a distance she looks intimidating. The kids in the drunk-and-domestic apartments on the other side of the body shop think Sheena’s a wolf, and I am not going to do or say anything to stop that urban legend. Clara, while not easily confused with a wolf, is also blessed with a formidable presence, and she is the one they need to watch out for. Her coordination is perfect, as are her lovely complement of 42 teeth, she gives no warning, and she does not miss anything.
Sheena (below)- not a wolf- and 100% harmless.
Clara (below)- also not a wolf, but definitely worthy of her Belgian Malinois heritage.
I don’t encourage my dogs to be aggressive, but I will not interfere with their natural prey drive and instincts to defend their pack and territory. In other words, if you jump the fence, the dogs will do what comes naturally. Clara will go for your jugular, Lilo will go for your ankles, Sheena will stand aside and woof as she watches them, and Uno (the little male Shih-Tsu) if we fail to find a home for him, will probably lift his tiny little leg and pee on you.
Lilo (below) – definitely not a wolf- and in spite of her little diva tendencies, is quite the ambush hunter.
Speaking of Sheena, her surgery was successful, although I still don’t know how invasive it had to be, or what she’s going to look like when I pick her up tonight. It will probably be two weeks or so before they get the biopsy results back from Ohio State so that is a bit of a worry. I am so hoping this is the last surgery for this, even if she had to have the mammary chains completely removed. No matter how extensive her surgery had to be, I hope she gets a couple days’ worth of Tramadols so she can get some rest. She’s easy to pill, so I will request some sort of pain meds for her. Last time she particularly liked having me put the ice pack on her stitches. Clara wanted absolutely no part of ice when she had all those stitches under her leg after she was hit by a truck- but Clara and Sheena are totally different dogs. Same size, but completely different mentalities. Clara is almost impossible to pill, and she doesn’t understand that convalescence means “slow down and get better.” She wanted to go running after critters at full bore a day after getting 42 stitches down the inside of her foreleg. Sheena will take it slow and easy at least for a few days, and pilling her is as simple as folding a piece of bread around the pill and tossing it in her direction.
Wednesday morning after Taco Tuesday: