THE NEW DOG

Today I am going to tell you a story about one of my very best friends and her new dog.  Ginny lost her dog back in the winter and this week decided it was time to find a new pal for herself, so off to the Humane Society she went.  It probably took her all of five minutes to find Petey, a cute little five-year-old mix of pug and something else, who was just sitting there waiting to go home with her.

There are some things you should know about Ginny.  First, she is the most generous, kind, grounded, spiritual woman I know.  We met over the Internet because of an interest in music, and sight unseen, she welcomed me into her home, and I have been going back ever since.  And she's been coming here.  

Anyway, Ginny paid for Petey and they headed home.  I received the sweetest e-mail about his car-riding abilities, the way he sat right in the passenger seat.  I received photos of her new baby, and we ooohhhed and ahhhhed over each of his preset accomplishments.  He is, after all five years old, so he came with an entire pre-wired hard drive.

As the first night wore on and Ginny and Petey became better-acquainted, he began to show the sides of himself that were already loaded.  But Ginny always sees the best in everyone, including Petey, and she sang his praises even during the writing of the following e-mail I received from her later last night:  "Petey is so wonderful!  He is crate trained!  And he's potty trained!  He just loves to play with his toys, unless you try to take one away from him.  LOL.  He bit me on the nose.  LOL.  Did you know that your nose will bleed more than a cut finger??  But it was my fault for trying to play with him."

Now, Ginny really already loves Petey, and I would be in love with him already, too, but the second I ended up needing plastic surgery due to his tendencies to defend his stuffed toy to the death, I would be crating him up and returning him for a different model.  Not Ginny, though.  She will keep him and adjust herself to him by simply not playing with him by trying to take the toy back and throw it again.  That's my Ginny.  Compassionate and loving and apparently with a good enough insurance policy that a little plastic surgery a few times a year will be worth it to have Petey happy in her home.  


She really is glad I don't bite, though.  But if I did, she would just pat my head and let me know that it is not my fault...I just love visiting Ginny!


Here's a toast to her and Petey.  To a long, happy, bloody relationship!  CHEERS!