The Dog Lady Blog

Margie's soon-to-be former companion just called to let me know they were on my road. T-minus: 45 seconds until I re-welcomed my all time favorite Scottish Terrorist, Margie, back to the fold. The gist of this all is that last week Margie was constantly on my mind. Not just wondering how she was but actually missing her. Missing her chattering (barking), her bossy boots behavior (ah, the terriers...) and with the warm weather, her love of wading in the baby pools I have filled for the dogs every summer. I wished last week that she would come back to me. Be careful what you wish for, I know. A week later, my phone rings and now Margie is coming home. Oh! They're here!


Two hours later:

Once down my steep driveway, Matt opened the door to his car but Margie resisted getting out. I reached in and after Matt handed her to me, she tinkled all over my shirt and Gramiccis. So much for reunions! Like everyone who brings me a dog, after ten minutes of their arriving I too asked Matt to leave--and without any "goodbyes". That's for humans, not the dogs. It confuses and stresses out the animal. Especially when people get slobbery and remorseful. No can do. My priority is the dog and his or her transition at their new digs here with us.

I know I said I missed Margie but I didn't realize what a hole her absence created (although I'm obviously really glad she wasn't here when the county thugs came after us in January...). It didn't take her more than thirty minutes to reacclimate! Before I knew it, she was bossing the 'Bloodhound Daisy Posse' all over the place, wading confidently in the pool (another wicked hot day), blithely nibbling out of the communal kibble trough (yet remembering to still fuss at the blue jays/cardinals/sparrows that fearlessly swoop down for errant pieces of food) and finally settling onto a blankie in the camper, trotting knowingly in to inspect all 35 feet before resting.

This fortifies my sense of hopefulness. Optimism is the foundation of strength, or so it seems. I knew I would get through the January Of Death but I wish so many of my dogs hadn't been so brutally killed, especially without me there at least to soothe them. No, I should've gotten any and all of my dogs back that I asked/paid for. But I can't suffer the crimes of my county agents,
can I? I'd kill myself if I did. They know what they did--and still do.

Go away sad thoughts. Go away mean people. MARGIE MY DEAR IS BACK HOME!