Today marked the arrival of the replacement puppies. No, I am not being cold and callous. We are not like those pet owners who pick a species, color combo and name and have the pet for 30 years.
What? You haven't heard of this?
Here's how it is done - Species: Cat; Color combo: Orange tabby; Name: Lucy; Age: 30 How?
First version of Lucy got hit by a car when the child was 2 and had just learned her name, so she had to be replaced, and fast. Second version of Lucy died of feline leukemia when the kids were 9 and 6 and you weren't ready to have the death talk. Luckily there were orange tabby kittens in the neighborhood so... Third version of Lucy disappears when the kids are old enough to handle it, but your memory is so bad now that all orange tabbies are Lucy.
We are not these people. Having said that... the replacement dogs arrived today. Children are giggling. I'm tripping over dog bowls again. We can no longer wear black pants. All is right with the world.
This is also a story of the economy. We are the foster/adoptive parents because their parents are getting divorced and there was no way for the dogs to live comfortably in the two new sets of digs.
And finally, this is a story of why I like having quirky friends. The dogs, ages 3 and 8, are named Darwin and Chicken.
No comments:
Post a Comment