In honor of hottest, most sultry days of summer (thank you wikipedia), let's talk about dogs.
My dad's dog, Geli, is currently in the hospital with some kind of gastrointestinal infection. She's lost 8 pounds in the last couple of weeks. Not good. We think she ate some rat poison down at the ranch and she hasn't been the same ever since. For my dad's sake, I am praying for God to deliver this animal. Last summer was awful for my parents - losing both their dogs within 3 weeks of each other - and I'm hoping that my sweet dad doesn't have to do down that road again. I don't think he expected to see the inside of that vet hospital again this soon. Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it getting so attached to creatures with such short lifespans and not a lick of sense.
Beckham, who turned five on July 4th, is starting to get up there in age. The chew and destroy shenanigans of his youth have largely been replaced by eating baked goods left out on the counter or bar when no one is watching. What kills me is that I know he wants to maintain his squeaky clean image and he would never ever do that in front of us. He lost his cover when Bill (the cat) left us and there was no question of who done it. He still loves a good dumpster diving episode (think kitchen trash can), but thankfully he has never eaten a dirty diaper to my knowledge. There was that time I saw him playing with a stiff squirrel carcass in the backyard in Irving. He's lucky I didn't brush his teeth with Clorox. One thing I think he will do until the day he dies is visit other people's homes. I guess we're lucky in that respect. Anytime he gets out, he goes straight to a person or an open door instead of hitting the road. He's been in more of our neighbors' homes than we have. That goes for our old neighborhood and our new one.
Dogs are not immune from being negatively influenced by their peers. Beckham got his food stealing ways from Curt's parents' sheltie. Jess, AKA Fweet Scruff, has a thing for bacon grease. He once managed to eat a whole container of it and became rather ill. I think Jess got his food stealing ways from his cousin dog, a pug named Maximus. Bless Max's heart. He's overdosed on so many stolen foods that he has to be on special medicine for the rest of his life.
Here's cheeky little Maximus - our cousin Erin's dog. He's pretty dern cute, huh? In a pugly sort of way?
Here he is with his Person.
If you're a dog lover and you get this kind of thing, will you help my sweet Erin out and take 2.5 seconds to vote for him in a photo contest? (Here's the link.) If he wins, his picture will grace a billboard in Springfield, MO. Here's a pic of Jess/Fweet Scruff, Beckham, and Max when they were just babies. Lindsay, Erin and I were, too.
I'll be honest. When I look at that picture I wish I were still that cute. It comforts me to know that someone else understands where I'm coming from. Jess/Fweet Scruff has seen better years, too.
He got stepped on my my mother-in-law's horse and had irreparable hair loss. Please, someone, make a toupee for this poor dog! He was once so beautiful! I'm not sure how he's going to deal if Max becomes America's Next Top Dog Model.
Both my parents are going out of town this weekend and we are keeping Starsy for them. We won't have Geli because poor baby will still be in the hospital. Did you know that my dad calls my mom's dog Stanky? It makes her so mad. Beckham is going to be sooo happy to have company. Especially if Starsy lives up to her nickname because stank is like a sweet-smelling perfume to dogs. Maybe that's why Beckham once at a pair of dirty athletic socks.
For those of you who are thanking me for this enlightening, sweet, precious little post, I'd just like to say you're welcome. And vote Maximus Ward for Billboard Buddy 2009!