Today I got to meet my girlfriend face to face. Ah, it was a joyous occasion! After weeks of just seeing her cute nose poke through the fence, now I had the pleasure of seeing the whole package.
And what a package!
Bonnie Belle is about the same size I am, but she is not the same breed. I heard her owner say that she is a cross between a Chihuahua and a beagle. Her collar is pink and makes a soft jingle when she prances around the yard. And her eyes…oh her eyes speak volumes even though she is actually kind of shy. Bonnie Belle’s eyes are like the soft color of mud just before it dries. I love mud!
We met on the street. Trudy and Olivia were taking me for a walk the same time Bonnie Belle and her owner were coming out of their house. At the sight of my true love, I barked. She lifted her head from the bush she’d been sniffing around and smiled.
“Mrs. Olsen,” Trudy called. “How are you? I haven’t seen you out much.”
“It’s these darn allergies. I just can’t seem to lick them. I’ve been trying to keep inside and away from all the pollen and mold in the air.” Mrs. Olsen puffed, her round body shaking at the injustice of allergens. “Finally decided enough was enough though. Poor Bonnie Belle needs some exercise.”
I strained against the leash trying to get closer.
“I think Oliver likes your dog,” Olivia said.
“I know Bonnie Belle likes him. I always catch her sniffing at the hole in the fence. Sometimes when I make her come inside, she’ll just lay by the back door and whimper,” Mrs. Olsen said. She reached down to give Bonnie Belle a pat. “I’ll bring her a little closer and let’s see how they do.”
Bonnie Belle pushed closer to me and sniffed at my ear. Her breath was soft and tickled. I sniffed her. She smelled like roses, ear ointment, and pot roast. Delightful! And exciting. My heart beat raced, and I started jiggling around kind of funny.
“Just out of curiosity, when are you planning to get the little guy fixed?” Mrs. Olsen asked.
Fixed? I wasn’t aware anything about me was broken. I circled around Bonnie Belle, the urge to get closer strong. Uncontrollable almost.
“Actually, I was just talking to Jack about that this morning,” Trudy said. “He was a little resistant to the idea. You know how some men can be about that subject.”
Mrs. Olsen laughed.
“You’d think it was their manhood or something,” she said.
“No kidding! I don’t think we are going to farm Oliver out for breeding so we should take care of that.”
“Makes them less aggressive.” Mrs. Olsen bent over and patted my head. “Not that he is. Oliver seems like a sweet boy.”
I wagged my tail at her, wondering why she smelled like pot roast, too.
After a few more minutes of small talk, Bonnie Belle and Mrs. Olsen went one direction and we went another. I was sad to see Bonnie Belle go. Just when we were getting to know each other!
“Mommy, why do we have to get Oliver fixed? He’s not sick or anything, right?” Olivia sounded worried.
“Oh, no. There’s nothing wrong with him, honey. Fixed is just another way of saying he needs to be neutered.” Trudy gave my leash a gentle tug when I stopped to smell some gum on the sidewalk. Minty!
“What’s neutered?”
“Oh, boy. Well, let’s see.” Trudy sounded a little nervous, like she didn’t quite want to go into the details. My ears pricked up. “Neutering is when you prevent a dog from being able to create babies with another dog.”
“Oh. Why would we want to do that to Oliver?”
“Well, it’s not like having puppies is a bad thing, but sometimes it’s hard to find a home for them. That’s why so many animal shelters are overcrowded with dogs. There just aren’t enough places for them to go. If you neuter a dog, then you are helping to limit all the homeless dogs out there,” Trudy said.
“Will it hurt him?”
“Well….”
Uh –oh. I didn’t like the sound of that drawn out well. But I’d already been to the vet and experienced the pain of shots. Nothing could be worse than that, right?
“Will it mommy? I don’t want Oliver to be hurt!” Olivia was close to tears and I could sense her anxiety. I gave a little whimper to let her know I understood.
“Darling, he might be a little sore, but he’ll get better in no time. You don’t have to worry, and it really will be the best thing for him.”
Somehow I didn’t believe Trudy. She seemed a little too evasive about the subject for my liking.
At home, I talked to my own mother, Schatze, about it.
“What does it mean to get neutered?” I watched her face closely. Momma lifted her head from her cozy little bed in the kitchen and smiled.
“Oh, dear. I guess it is about that time,” she said and gave me a quick lick on the head. “You are growing up so fast.”
“I don’t understand what it means.”
“It’s nothing to worry over, Oliver. It’s just a little procedure that happens at the vet,” Momma assured me. “You’ll be asleep and won’t even feel it.”
“The vet? I think I need to lie down,” I said, and staggered into the living room to my crate. Inside I plopped down, depressed. Even a good chew on Mr. Fluffy Wuffy didn’t cheer me up.
A few minutes later, Jack and Trudy came into the living room. Jack sat down on the couch and gave me a long stare.
“Trudy, I think he’s too young to get fixed,” Jack said.
“The vet said dogs can start getting neutered between 4-6 months.” Trudy sat beside him and looked at me, too. “This is not a big deal.”
Jack sighed. “I know.”
“I’ll make the appointment at the vet’s for later in the week.”
I let out a low howl at the word “vet” and Jack said, “I hear you, boy. I hear you.”
Later that afternoon, I was outside digging in the sandbox, trying not to think of my impending doom. Bonnie Belle stuck her nose through the hole in the fence.
“Hey, Bonnie Belle,” I said, not very enthusiastically. I couldn’t help but think I’d done something at our early meeting to cause the whole neutering discussion.
“What’s the matter, Oliver?” she asked.
“Bad news, doll. I’m getting neutered.”
“Oh. Sorry to hear that.”
“It means I can’t follow through on all the plans I had for us. I sort of thought we’d run away together to Monte Carlo and play on the beach.”
“What’s Monte Carlo?” Bonnie Belle asked.
“Never mind.”
“Does this mean we can’t be friends? You’ll be the same dog, and we can stillplay together, right?”
Bonnie Belle had never sounded so wise before, and I realized she was probably correct. Nothing could change my love for her. She was number one in my heart, next to Olivia, Trudy, Jack, and Momma. Perhaps Monte Carlo would still be in our future!
Feeling a little better, I dug in the sand until I found the remnants of a cheese treat I’d been hiding. Picking it up, I trotted over to the fence.
“Here. Take this as a token of my affection, Bonnie Belle,” I said through clenched teeth.
She sniffed and said, “Oh, sorry, Oliver. I’m lactose intolerant. That cheese treat will give me potty issues for sure.”
“Oh. Okay.” I gulped the treat down. “Then how about a kiss instead?”
She obliged me by bumping her nose to mine.
*****
A few days later, I visited the vet. I don’t really remember much about the procedure. One minute I was wide awake, the next I dreamt of cheese treats and digging holes in the backyard. I woke up groggy, confused, and feeling a little sore. When I tried to lick my stitches, the vet totally humiliated me by putting a big lampshade looking thing on my neck.
“It’s for his own good,” the vet told Trudy. “This way those stiches won’t get infected. He may want to get up and play tomorrow, but try to keep him from being too active. I know he’s got lots of energy though.”
It was embarrassing to wear something that made me look like Queen Elizabeth I. I sure hoped Bonnie Belle never saw me in that get up. I’d die of shame for sure! On the other hand, the attention I got from my family made it all worthwhile. The tummy rubs, the pats, the sweet crooning—once again, I realized just how fortunate I was.
Momma smiled when she saw me and made room on her bed. We cuddled together despite my big cone head, and I knew everything would be alright in the morning.
****
(…to be continued)
Related posts:
- Puppy Tails – Oliver Worries
- Puppy Tails – Oliver Digs
- Puppy Tails – Oliver the Supermodel
- Puppy Tails – Oliver and Mr Fluffy
- Puppy Tails – Oliver Enjoys a Midnight Snack. Or Two.
