| july
27
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World dom-Vin-ation (I made that up, am I clever or what) continues, as Entertainment Weekly, the world's greatest non-intellectual magazine concurs heartily by putting mah man on the cover.
Now, who could not love this face?
And of course, I do! This time next week I will have a roommate known as Kahlua (yes, as in "with cream"), the 4 year old purebred Cairn Terrier you see above you. She looks just like Pepper, the dog I grew up with (which was kind of the idea). What a cutie pie!
However, I feel there are limits with animals, and bibs in particular are totally beneath their dignity. Kahlua, I swear never to bib you up, and you will only ever find yourself in human clothing if you develop a severe rash or all your hair falls out. I promise. Really. We put Pepper in a red sweater one year and have a picture of her standing there patiently waiting to have it taken off again, an expression on her little face that could only be described as "we are unamused" and "fine, you got the freakin' picture, now get this the hell off of me." Hey, not unlike little Kahlua here!
Kahlua is a rescue dog. As I understand things, she was living on a kennel that bred Cairns (perhaps among other dogs) and while it wasn't a bad life -- i.e., it wasn't a puppy mill, she wasn't abused -- if your whole life centers around repeated pregnancies and then having your babies taken from you, well, there's only one way to convince owners that it's time to quit it after a while. Yeah, you kill a few of 'em. Hey, give the kid credit. (And no, I'm not necessarily unaware of the parallel to the recent Andrea Yates adjudication.) I was informed the only thing medically of interest "wrong" with her is she has "a particularly large uterus." All the better for making babies, my pretty. It's rather sad and twisted and sick what we do to our animals. I remember Pepper was bred particularly young (we got her in 1976 as a puppy; I have photos from 1978 of her puppies) and we (mom) made her give birth chained to the dining room table. Just an animal, after all.
On the other hand. The photos above were taken by her "foster mother," who was asked to look after Kahlua until a permanent home could be found by the Colonel Potter Rescue Organization, which adopts out Cairns, Cairn mixes and some Westies. It was quite the process -- I had to submit all kinds of info about my dog-owning past, four references (all of whom were called and quizzed within hours), a home-check by a lovely woman named Aly and then I got turned down for the original Cairn I'd asked for. Kahlua was next on the list -- I didn't even make a list at first, but after getting turned down I submitted a bunch of names. I learned days later I'd got Kahlua. So all of the photos above are the foster mom. All of these people seem devoted, kindly and sweet. But sometimes ... they go just a bit over the top. I mean, I'm getting a pet. A dog. A wonderful addition to the household. But other than in very lightehearted joking, she is not my "kid." I'm not the mom. We're co-habitating. And one of us has to be taken out to take a shit a few times a day. When I got the notice I was being allowed to adopt her, it said, "In a matter of days you'll be holding her in your arms." That was a little close to an actual baby arriving. It's the whole bib thing again. Give the animal some dignity. No chaining to tables, no bibs, no baby talk. Which is one of the reasons I think Kahlua won't stick as a name. We'll see if she's attached to it. If not, I'm open to other suggestions. In strong contention right now: Rosanna. Except I hate that name and I'm never calling her Rosie. I'd call her Rosanna 'cause that was a Toto song from the 80s and ... well, there you go. Anyway, this lovely woman Aly is also a travel agent and can fly anywhere for $100. That plus $75 to bring Kahlua back on the plane (it's too hot to ride cargo, so she'll sit under the seat as a carry-on) from Chicago where she currently is and Aly will bring her to me around 2:30 or so next Saturday! Then comes the hard part of owning and caring for a dog. Yikes.... I wonder if I can call her Vin.
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