I’m going to be bringing home a new addition to our family. One with four legs and fur, that is. And no, it’s not a cat. It’s a dog. A Border Collie. And her name will most likely be Daisy. I think. Because that’s what we’re calling her.
She’s a puppy. Wanna see her?
I’m also a little crazy. See, Our Beloved Shad Roe the Wonderdog just passed three weeks ago (barely) and I’m just now not crying every time I walk by her favorite spot in the house. I still have a lump in my throat when I think about her but at least I don’t start sobbing. I’d say it’s a step in the right direction, right?
Anyways, puppy. The little girl up there just happens to have a special need. See, she was born breech and puppies should be born breech. So her Mommy dog tried to pull her out. With her mouth. And kinda sorta hurt her wee paw and it got infected and…you don’t want to know. So she doesn’t have toes on that wee little back paw of hers. Poor baby!
But that doesn’t bother me one bit. In fact, it makes me want her more. So my cousin (who owns the dog) is letting me have her. Well, sorta my cousin. It’s my Dad’s first cousin’s son. So we’re second cousins or third cousins or twice removed or blah, blah, blah. Cousins.
I think she’ll be perfect for our family. And we’ll love on her something fierce. Because doggies here? PAMPERED. They all know it, too. I have a few dog guests that hide from their owners when they get picked up. My puppers don’t know how good they have it, yo.
And the countdown to Daisy begins…