So yesterday, I was at Redding Roasters and there were three or four other people hanging out and talking with Kaitlyn. After I’d bought the world’s best coffee, Kaitlyn turned around and then came out from behind the counter with the most adorable, fuzzy little Corgi puppy in her arms. She had a big grin on her face and I immediately squeed and reached for the puppy. Kaitlyn gave it over and I stood there cuddling it and kissing it (hugging it, petting it, squeezing it and wanting to name it George…).
The puppy was splayed out on my chest with its warm belly on my left boob and its head on my shoulder and I never wanted to let it go. I asked if it was a boy or girl and heard a voice from behind me: “Her name is Maggie.”
I turned around to see a woman standing there smiling and realized that when Kaitlyn had brought the puppy out, she had been about to reach past me and hand her back to her mom, but I’d intercepted and puppy-nabbed.
I babbled something like, “Omigosh I stole your puppy I’m so sorry I didn’t realize can I still hold her a little bit more oh pleeeeease?”
The woman was laughing and said of course I could, and I cuddled the puppy like she was going to be taken from me at any moment — which of course she would be soon as her mom got tired of me slobbering all over her baby. The woman was very nice and didn’t seem at all fazed by my reluctance to let go. I finally realized I should hand the puppy over to her mom before I had to be asked to, so I did.
I never thought to ask Kaitlyn why the puppy was behind the counter. Maybe I wasn’t the only puppy-napper at Redding Roasters that day.
The Abominable Snow Rabbit/Warner Bros.
We got Augie on October 23rd, 2012. It took me since we got Pickle (April of 2011) to convince Nitram that a lone dog is a lonely dog. It took Pickle and Augie five days (I thought it would be much longer) to become inseparable.
This is Day 3:
This is Day 5:
This is about 6 weeks later:
Augie is a Boxer/Whippet/Pit Bull mix — about half Boxer for the most part. When we got her from a local rescue, she was 30 pounds and still suffering from mange. She looked to be about 5 years old, with a permanent worry in her face.
Two months later she was almost 40 pounds and fit, and one of the happiest dogs I’ve ever seen. Dr Fitch had said Augie was barely 2 years old (good teeth!) and would “fill out.” She sure did. We thought we were getting a dog only a few pounds larger than Pickle, and ended up with a 40-pound galoot who leaves muddy footprints, sand, grass, debris, and general awesomeness everywhere she goes.
Augie also leaves farts everywhere she goes. They’re horrifying, room-clearing. I looked up Boxers and it turns out that they unfortunately have a high incidence of death by flatulence — their human’s death, that is. I’ve had to keep a bottle of natural organic lavender air freshener on the bedside table so I don’t suffocate in my sleep. I found out that Boxers also have the longest tongues of any dog, so that explains that humongous piece of sliced ham hanging about 18 inches out the side of her mouth.
We’ve taken to calling Augie the Orange Dog and Pickle the White Dog when we don’t want them to know we’re talking about them. It’s still working — they haven’t figured out their colors yet.
I asked Nitram not too long ago if after not wanting another dog, could he ever imagine living without Augie.
He said, “No way.”
Posted in Animalia, Family, Pets
Tagged adorable, Augie, canines, dogs, family, love, mutts, pets, Pickle, rescue dogs, rescue pets, sfw, shelter dogs, shelter rescue, The Orange Dog
That’s right. A singularity. Look it up.
Not only is there just one of me, but I am unique in all other ways as well. And, there is only one of my name, as in “Pickle.” NOT “Pickles.” Just “Pickle.” P-i-c-k-l-e. Again: P-i-c-k-l-e-NO S.
When people say, “Pickles?” Mom and Dad often wish they hadn’t named me Pickle. They smile and say (usually it takes more than once to get it across), “No, it’s Pickle,” while in their heads thoughts like, Do you see more than one dog here? and PickLLLL! and Just one fucking Pickle, and Asshole race around as their smiles stretch a bit thin. It’s a long story, but my name actually means something other than the sound “pick-le.” It certainly does not mean “pickles.”
I am not a plurality; I am, as I said, a singularity. After this, you shouldn’t be making a mistake about that or about my name.
Now that that’s settled, it’s blankie time.
Posted in Animalia, Pets
Tagged adorable, canines, dogs, mutts, Pickle, rescue dogs, rescue pets, sfw, shelter rescue, singularity