Tuesday, April 9, 2013


I've not written much about the senior foster failure, Penny.

Penny was a foster failure within the first 10 seconds I laid eyes on her. My words to my husband when she came around a corner at the vet clinic in the arms of a tech was, "Oh. She's a foster failure." "You don't know that.", said my husband. "Yes. I do." said I.

And I was right. :)

Penny is a gorgeous mahogany miniature longhair dachshund who is just this side of what I would look for in a show quality mini-long (OK. I would expect one to have teeth, but that's not Penny's fault.) and she makes my eyes very, very happy. She also has one of the happiest and most engaging personalities of any dachshund I've ever been around. She loves the world. She loves everything in it. And, of course, she expects that love to be returned. She waltzes through life with a wagging tale and doggy smile on her face.

So last Thursday, we took her, Skeeter and the deaf Deagle, Aggie to a low cost spay/neuter clinic to update rabies shots (McLennan County is in something of a mini-epidemic where rabies is concerned).

I won't bore you with the long, tedious details of the back breaking wait, but 40 minutes before we were seen for the shots, I had Randall bring Penny into the clinic so she would be first in the shuttle from the van to the examination room.

Now, I'm sure you've sat with a dog in your lap at a vet clinic. And your previously happy, well adjusted dog turned into a quivering mass of "TAKEMEHOMERIGHTNOWIHATETHISPLACE!!!!" We've all been there, and despite the fact the folks working in the clinic have seen it before in almost every animal that walks in the door, you still feel embarrassed and you say things like, "I have no idea what's gotten into her. She's such a good dog and loves everyone."

Meanwhile your pride and joy is cowering behind your legs looking for all the world like it's about to be beaten half to death and then thrown into a pot of boiling water.

So that's what I expected. I knew Penny would come in and immediately turn into some unrecognizable creature. Like pretty much every other dog I've taken into a clinic does.

No. Not in the least.

For 40 minutes, I set with a wiggly, squiggly mini-long dachshund who whined and tried to jump off the bench and wagged her tail and wormed and squirmed. Everyone. And I mean EVERYONE from the badly behaved husky puppy to the terrified Am Staff to the patently unhappy cat to the woman with the walker to the kid with the cell phone to the woman behind the counter were there to see HER!!!!!!!!!!!!

And she talked about it the entire time. And anyone who made their way over to see her (and there were quite a few) got greeted like they were the most wonderful person in the entire world and it was even better because they were coming to see her.

I've never seen such a case of MEMEMEMEMEMEMEME!!!  You're here to see MEMEMEMEMEMEMEME! And yes. She was thrilled to see the techs in the exam room.

I just hope that everyone who had to be at the ABC Clinic Thursday morning felt the love. Because little Miss Penny did everything in her power to let them know how much she loved them. :)

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