If you’d asked me six weeks ago if we’d be getting a dog anytime soon I would have laughed in your face. We travel! We’re spontaneous! We’re not very responsible!
Of course we’re not getting a dog.
We like our freedom to sleep away a Sunday morning with no worries about who’s going to let the dog out or (worse) omg did *anyone* let the dog out? We make PLANS.
OK. My husband makes most of the plans. But still! We love our ability to just get up and go. We don’t have the time or the energy for a dog. Plus we have a new house and what if he ruins the carpet/floor/sofa/new home smell?
Six weeks ago I sent my girls off to school and my husband off to work and I went to a dentist appointment. I remember I wore one of those long, summery dresses and cute white sandals. I had a lovely conversation with the hygienist, who took painstaking care of my super-sensitive teeth. I spit in the sink, made my six month appointment and drove home – blissfully unaware of the fate that awaited me as I pulled into my driveway.
Let me just pause and say right here that we pretty much hit the lottery when it comes to our neighbors. Seriously. The jackpot. So when I got out of my car that Tuesday morning and heard my name being called from the house diagonal to ours, I didn’t hesitate to go over and see what was up.
The conversation is a blur. Stray dogs … probably just dropped in the neighborhood … no tags … your girls would love a dog … he’s perfect … Italian greyhound …
One thing led to another and by the time my oldest returned from school, the greyhound was in our garage. We followed the right protocol. We posted his photo and description on all the town and state lost pet sites and cross-referenced for good measure. We filed paperwork with Animal Control and were told after a 72-hour waiting period that weekend, if no one claimed him, he would be ours.
We’ve had him ever since. And in these short six weeks he has:
- Escaped from his harness and led us on a multi-street chase
- Worn the cone of shame following a very private surgery
- Been boarded twice (hey. we had PLANS)
- Taught us all how ghastly dog-farts can be
- Discovered a soft spot in our 12 year olds bed
- Stretched his little greyhound limbs and smelled his share of dog butts at the local dog park
- Won over our hearts
The first harness we got him was a cheapy from Walmart. Live and learn. He wriggled out of that one fairly easily. So we had him fitted for one at the local Petco. It’s a size small because his neck is so darn tiny. His cone of shame wasn’t the traditional cone for the same reason – tiny neck. The whole thing reminded us of a favorite episode from Phineas and Ferb. Candace, the older sister, has this freakishly long, thin neck. In one episode, a popular theater director hires her for his show and talks endlessly of her talents. He nicknames her his “cou de crayon”, which she instantly thinks is some fancy French compliment.
The joke comes at the end of the episode when her brother crushes her little spirit and says, “You know that means ‘pencil neck’, right?”
The girls named him Scooby. But we also like to call him our little cou de crayon >> PENCIL NECK.