It’s been a while, but rest assured, the dogs keep coming. I think we’re up to 22 or 23 dogs since we started fostering. I think I can do this as long as Kirsty the Generous keeps handing them over. I was asked by a vet if this is hard for me. I guess it isn’t really as I don’t have time to mourn one before another is handed over. I don’t love or miss any less, but I’m busy. Tamale hurts the most; however, she’s a dog and is easily trained. She mopes for a day and then you see her get used to being alone. She gets perky when she hears a car with squeaky brakes as she expects that to be Kirsty the Generous making up for evil twin Kirsty the Dog Snatcher. She knows she’ll get a new buddy, but she does mope for a while.
She’s doing that now. But I’m ahead of myself. Let’s return to May’s last blog.
As it turned out, I didn’t need to fear the blackhead reaper. Kirsty the Squeeze Happy came over to “teach” me how to do this. By teach, I mean she did it all. As it turned out, he wasn’t that bad and the lotion was never even brought out. WHEW! She worked on the chest a bit. What comes out is not really that gross... comparatively. It is something coming out of a body and that’s nasty to look at. Even new born babies look like peeled tomatoes in snot sauce. But compared to zits and pimples, this was no biggie. It looked exactly like what it was: dirt. Just bits of gritty dirt. I was relieved to know I bypassed that. Good ole Kirsty the Squeeze Happy. Mark called and said he wouldn’t come home until it was done. Big brave man!
I’ve mentioned final destination in a running blog I do. It’s a movie that is about teens not being able to cheat death. I saw the first one and was scared out of my wits. Anyway, I blogged about the loss of my iPod. I nearly broke it twice.... but death finally arrived when I left it at an airport. This also works for repulsive doggie stuff. I thought I escaped punishment for being such a bad person in my previous life. HA! I thought wrong.
GAP had a promotion at the V.I.P. Cup race. Racing dogs parade in front of the stadium before each race, then go to the starting blocks. Last Thursday, GAP dogs were leading the parade. The announcer mentioned the career of each adopted dog and people could see that the dogs they bet on could become pets. I was to lead out the fourth race with Jonesy.
I walk to the kennels and announce that I’m there for the GAP dog. I get taken to the GAP kennel and it hits me. Poo is in the air. I’m walking past each kennel... it’s not you, or you, or you..... oh, Jonesy.... Nervous runny poo was everywhere. Mt. Vesuviass erupted and as Jonesy was very excited, it was all over him. I had to get his GAP ADOPTION racing silks on him and he got poo all over my legs.
I’d like to count myself amongst those who do not find poo appealing. I was working on keeping from vomiting and adding to the aromatherapy. We hosed him off and got him outside. He was ready to run! Sheridan Jones had 110 starts. He never won, but came in 2nd and 3rd most of the time. He was ready to run again. I have never worked so hard to pull a dog back. He was doggy stoked!
The steward was a lovely man who understood that most of the GAP volunteers were clueless and nervous. I didn’t want to screw up. Trainers are anal about the races. I didn’t want to be banned from promotions. I won’t be, but Jonesy might! I paraded him in front, heard all these great things about Sheridan Jones and then while I was trying to get off the track, the other dogs were passing us as Jonesy decided that one more pancake of poo was left in him. Under the bright lights, Jonesy pooped on the track. Mark and I hosed him down and left right after that. Why stay for more humiliation?
At home, Jonesy was washed clean and I strained my back keeping him upright in the tub (too cold for an outside hosing). Yes, you can’t escape punishment for sins of a past life.
By the way, Jonesy was dognapped the next day by Kirsty the Kruel. He was put on a plane to Emerald and will live out retirement in a town west of Emerald. I will remember how close Tamale and Jonesy got. Always together, and often in the same pose.
This blog is called dog porn due to the number of photos I plan on posting:
He was coming out of his shell, but not all the way before he left. He was a weekender. I think what we’ll remember most about him is that he was a thief. Many greys are. They don’t chew your things, but you’ll find them missing and in and amongst the blankets that make up a bed. It’s their way of being with you all the time. Like dreamy teen girls who get the cologne of their boyfriend on their pillow. Awwww... gag! but hey, with a dog, it’s cute. Our favorite thing he stole were a wee pair of shorts. I hear Mark call out, “HEY! What are these small shorts?”
“I don’t know. We don’t have small shorts.” (I don’t have a small butt, so it wasn’t mine!)
“Jack stole some small shorts.” Wha?!?!
Ooooooh, those shorts! We have a porcelain chinese doll (garage sale, natch!) hanging on a door knob. Jack was able to pants her and not pull her off the knob. While possibly annoying, it’s a real skill!
He was a riot. Spazzy and shy. Sadly we won’t get him again. I can’t have everything.
I CAN have a new dog though.
WELCOME DEXTER!
Dexter came from the University of Queensland’s vet school. He was a blood donor or perhaps one that nurses in training worked on. Before you get all huffy, just ask yourself if you want your vet and vet nurse never having worked on any dog. It’s not fun, but it’s a necessary thing. They don’t let students work on pound dogs. After 30 days in the shelter, they’re killed and their bodies not even used to help future dogs. Their only choice are greys. Dexter is my second vet dog. They’re not as skinny and racing fit, but they’re always in good shape. Okay, I’m talking about two that I had. But still. ... They are also less disciplined. They’ve been doted on by nurses, students, vets. Dexter is a jumper, so we have work to do. He is a cute jumper, though....
And let’s end this longer dogblog with a shot of Tamale and the Puss Pods. Tamale, as you can see, is ready for winter. The cats are on the dog-free zone.
