At a recent family Christmas party,
my cousin was talking about how
their dog Mickey was, uhm...
On His Way Out.
Mickey was a good
three hundred years old,
in dog years.
He was talking about how
they had recently noticed
how Mickey was literally
Going To The Dogs.
This poor animal had begun
to experience, very inexplicably,
the loss of great patches of his fur.
They couldn't figure out
why the dog seemed to be worse,
right after a family gathering.
This was such an anomaly.
Everyone always petted Mickey &
gave him great affection.
All of these people
loving on Mickey &
he seemed to slip a little more
by the next day!
My cousin &
his wife had taken
this poor creature to
the Doggy Doctor,
on numerous visits
to determine
why the dog was molting.
They ran tests.
They tried some
strong medications.
They made the poor fella
take his cod liver oil.
But to no avail.
There was no apparent cause &
ergo...
No way to exact a cure.
So, it was just a
sadly accepted fact that
Mickey's days were few...
He slept alot,
God Bless his baldy
little soul.
While we were at the
Christmas shin-dig,
Bill was telling stories of how
Mickey had scared him,
on more than one occassion.
He'd come down in the morning,
to an unmovable, unmoving lump of
patchy dog.
"Oh, no.
No. No. No.
Not today!
I have to be in Boston
in three hours &
my bald dog is dead!
Shit, Shit, Shit.
I can't have Lorraine & Kara
come down and find him like this.
But I gotta go. Now!
Do I put the dog in the car &
take him to Beantown with me?
What are my options here?
He went to the storage ottoman &
took out the biggest, thickest
blanket he could find.
He put his briefcase on the floor &
draped his
dead, baldy-dog in a
Dora The Explorer quilt.
As he worked himself into
a crouching position, to gather the
dead family pet into his arms,
he reached down to lift the limp dog &
Mickey lifted his head,
from under Dora &
licked Bill's face.
Holy Shit! Holy Shit! Holy Shit!
You're alive. Holy Shit!
After Bill changed his pants,
he folded up Dora &
put some fresh water
in Mickey's bowl.
So. Mickey persevered,
but remained listless,
as the family had little choice but to
continue making big, thick
red X's each morning
on the calendar,
illustrating the ticking of
the clock for all to see...
Including Mickey.
"WTF????," Mickey must have
thought, from his spot in the kitchen.
"They're writing me off???"
"When is my expiration date???"
"Oh, God...I'm dying?????"
"Now, I'm depressed."
"I'm just gonna sleep all day."
It's a vicious cycle.
We were back in Bill &
Lorraine's house yesterday
for my Goddaughter's 19th Birthday.
My Goddaughter is a force of nature.
She's four foot, five &
she can beat up my husband.
Kara has Down Syndrome.
So does her nephew David,
who is turning 4.
These are beautiful,
loving children.
Except when Kara is pissed off.
Then she's kind of scary.
She can take my husband.
Anyway. I was playing with David,
with a giant balloon.
We were having a grand ol time,
until he got bored.
Then he was put into his jammy's,
to settle down.
When I looked at my feet,
he was sitting on
the floor, playing with something.
I reached down & asked him,
"Whatcha got, David?"
He smiled widely at me,
as he handed me his book of stickers.
"Let's go play with the stickers!
I'll go & get some paper."
I went to Bill's desk,
to fetch some
nice paper to
put David's stickers on.
As I was searching
for something nice,
David appeared at my side &
grabbed my hand.
He was tugging on it,
asking me to come with him.
My hand in his, I got up &
followed him
back to where we started.
He proudly pointed down to the floor,
directly at a napping Mickey,
COVERED IN
MONSTER STICKERS.
MONSTER STICKERS.
When we fell on the floor,
laughing at our discovery,
David added to our joy
by removing
by removing
a few of his stickers
from Mickey's side,
from Mickey's side,
covered in patches of fur.
Thank God the Vet
suggested waiting,
on pulling the plug.
You're welcome, Mickey...
You're so welcome.
~SusiTheJ~
The Doggy Whisperer
