I suppose by now more than a few of you are wondering why, how and when I dropped off the face of the planet. Well, except facebook, because that’s an entirely different matter. You see like most writers, I live two very different lives. One, the glamorous Laura who flirts around seducing men (give me a little latitude here!) and the other ‘me’ usually called so and so’s Mom. I use the anonymous term ‘so and so’ because my (nearly adult) children fully support my writing unless it comes to reading it, talking about it or admitting that it is what it is altogether. Now I do have ‘children’ who aren’t quite as snide. The four legged variety. I highly recommend having as many as you can take care of. They aren’t as expensive as human children, they rarely talk back to you and they act as if you’ve been gone a year when you get back from the corner store. They’re a win all around.
Now for many years I’ve been begged to write a book on animal rescue. I can’t seem to write that all down without 1) basically passing out medical advice. And I’m far from being a veterinarian. 2) getting thoroughly pissed with the state of homeless animals nationwide and 3) making myself look like the spay/neuter lunatic that I am. I think in another blogpost…What Beach? I chronicled my world class paranoia, if you think not allowing my children to ride the bus because it doesn’t have seatbelts is crazy, you should see me with my dogs. Our entire lives revolve around these furry kids. Even our home is so specifically designed to their needs that the only person we could sell it to is a rescuer or someone with hunting or show dogs at least.
But I will indulge you beggars a little and give you one free hint. Since I’ve mostly had pooches of the long hair variety I had to learn to groom my dogs myself. Do the math, $40 times 15, no way am I spending that amount once a month! It was a live and learn experience, grooming. So I’m going to spare you the $900 extra you will spend, buying clippers from Walmart. I own a pair of every kind they sell. Just don’t bother, head on over to a website like revivalanimalhealth.com and spend the $120 (more or less) for the Andis clippers. Now over the years I’ve had my issues with Andis, which they’ve duly heard about. And a lot of professional groomers like the Oster brand, whatever your preference, buy the good ones right from the start. Oh and those ceramic blades? They dull really fast. Buy the less expensive, basic metal ones and oh, oh, oh don’t forget the CoolCare, you’ll need it.
So there, you’ve had today’s lesson in basic dog grooming. Now back to why I’ve fallen off the planet. We lost our baby last week. We rescued her when she was two days old, woke hourly during her first months to force feed her liquids and carried her literally everywhere we went. She did have a few good years, which she spent with a fantastic woman on her farm (picture Norman Rockwell here) in North Carolina, but then she came home to us when her tiny legs could no longer chase chickens. You see she’d been born without a small bone in her neck that most humans and animals have. In human diagnosis it’s Muscular Dystrophy.
Her condition gradually became worse as we doted on her every whim and let her rule our home. She didn’t even seem to mind her all too frequent vet visits, as long as we held her. Then when the human kids roamed our way for the summer they began to just tote her around with them as well. There were rare moments when she wasn’t physically touching one of us. Even at this point I can’t tell you whether our constant pampering quickened her demise or if we extended her life. I still haven’t sorted it all out yet.
None of us really want to talk about it. We are in a serious funk without her. You’d think that with as many dogs as we helped throughout the years that one tiny little 10 pound dog couldn’t have this much of an impact. But she did and now we’re trying to put it all together again the best that we can. So if we don’t answer your calls or messages or texts it’s because we’re all too absorbed in trying to go on without her. It’s not that we don’t love you. We just can barely talk right now for the giant lumps in our throats still. But if you’re lifting a glass of something this coming week please make a small toast for the little dog who couldn’t walk. Because she was one of a kind.