My sister asked me to write about her “adventures” with her new dog. I warned her not to ask me to do this since I’d probably mock her, but… here goes.
So, my sister recently acquired a puppy. A little Yorkie running loose in her neighborhood. My sister and brother-in-law agreed to foster the puppy until its owners came looking for her.
Yeah, like my sister was going to give her up.
My sister
glanced scoured
their neighborhood website, to see if there were any messages from the puppy’s owners. She had even gone so far as to publish a message herself, saying she had found this puppy. She panicked when she saw someone had posted about a missing dog and decided immediately that she wasn’t giving the puppy back. Luckily for her, that particular poster had found her dog a day later.
Whew, my sister was not a thief. This time. Well, puppy-snatcher anyway. She does tend to steal candles from those silly candle parties, but that doesn’t really count, right?
Anyway, my sister’s history with pets hasn’t been all that great. In college, she had found herself a kitten. A year later, that kitten was knocked up and living with my parents.
Her excuse? “That poor girl cried all day...I couldn't in good conscience keep her in that apartment alone. Besides, the girl downstairs might have poisoned her.”
Callie did give birth to the sweetest, most lovable cat ever, so I’m glad my sister was a heedless parent, allowing her baby out all night to gallivant with the local bad boys on our street.
Next, my sister found another cat in the street on her way home one night. She had decided to name him Lincoln, after the car that had almost hit him. He must’ve been weaned early because he had a tendency to suck on people’s earlobes. While said person was visiting her sister. And trying to sleep. And again, this cat ended up at my parents’. My mother was quickly becoming the Old Woman in the Shoe (with cats instead of children). It’s a wonder my father didn’t move out.
My sister then moved onto dogs. One day, she and I had taken our annual day trip to Amish Country to buy our fall decorations. And, apparently, this particular year, pick up free puppies. To be fair, these puppies were damcute. I almost took one myself, but, luckily, dogs were not allowed in my apartment complex. Crisis averted.
So, my sister brought home sweet little Henry. In our defense, we had tried to get my brother-in-law on the phone before bringing the dog home, but he didn’t answer (which, in my opinion, was his fault, so, really, he shouldn’t have been mad about this). But anyway, when he got home? He. Flipped. Out.
Not that I blame him. I mean, he came home from a hard day's work to find a puppy peeing on his Wall Street Journal in his kitchen. Where they eat. Not exactly a “Hi honey, I’m home!” moment. In the end (read: the very next day), they gave the puppy to a nice family with a little boy who had desperately wanted a puppy of his own. I picture little Henry (or whatever they named him) scampering happily with this boy and feel a little better for taking Henry away from his little Amish brothers and sisters.
But, apparently, now is the time for them to have a dog. And like I said, she is a cutie. It took my sister 4 days to name her. 4 days and 214 options. In alphabetical order.
Allie? No.
Beatrice? No.
Coco? No.
My favorite was Kiki, but my mother didn’t like it (she really should’ve limited the number of opinions she required to help make the decision).
It’s been about 2 (3?) months and my sister has gone a little off her rocker. I assume this is what I was like when I had my boys, but I continue to find this all very amusing.
In the past couple months, my sister has:
- Named her Miss Macie (Macy? Macey?) Mae (no really).
- Skyped with us so we could see how cute she is (she really is cute).
- Sent me pictures of no less than 3 little outfits for her to wear for Easter (which were, of course, kee-yute).
- Taken her to the dog park (actually, my BIL did that – picture a 200-pound man walking around with a dog small enough to fit inside his shirt pocket).
- Built a bed for her. In their bed.
- Almost kicked her husband out of their bed to make room for the baby.
- Taken said bed into the bathroom while she got ready for work so “she (the dog, not my sister (I think)) wouldn’t be lonely”.
- Taken Miss Macie Mae to puppy training school. And when she graduated, she took a picture of Macie in her graduation cap.
- While in puppy school, my sister sent me this email:
Last night we went to puppy school. She knows her name and knows how to "Watch Me". No sitting yet, but we're working on it. Poor thing...we're in there with about 6 big barking dogs and a barking chihuahua. And my sweet little quiet puddin sitting on my lap. Know what else is great about her? She's not a shaker or nervous. I like that.
Sigh. Can't wait to meet my new niece.
