You won’t believe it Readers,
We are expecting a celebrity guest and the house is buzzing with excitement!
Of course, sophisticated breeds like myself rub elbows with celebrities all the time so it’s really no big deal – but I’m still thrilled for Mom. Nessa should be arriving any minute now!
You see, Nessa is a rescue celebrity and lives with my Auntie A. She is considered a “long timer” because she can’t be adopted for a while due to health issues. Her medical bills are so high; a plea for financial help was posted on the rescue website, accompanied by a blog reporting on her progress. (imagine that, a dog with a blog-hmm) She is like the poster dog for the rescue world and absolutely anyone who’s anyone knows who she is. When she makes a public appearance people clamor to have their picture taken with her. And she is coming to OUR house. Mom is just giddy over it.
Now Auntie A is Moms go-to-girl with all things dog related. Housebreaking, behavior issues, medical care, Mom emails her daily with her incessant questions. Quite frankly, I’m surprised she hasn’t blocked Moms email address a long time ago. So when Auntie A put out a foster sitting request for her poor Nessa: Mom jumped at the chance.
I sit Abby down for a talk; I speak slow and loud, like I’m talking to a simpleton who is hard of hearing: “we must be very gentle with poor Nessa. Don’t bother her for any reason, that means no sniffing, no jumping or teasing, and for god’s sake: no horseplay!” (I want to giggle at my excellent choice of the word “horseplay” but-I have on my serious face now)
“She’s had multiple surgerys, you know.” Abby interupts me at this point as she is not familiar with the term “surgery”. I lost a good half hour of my life right there, explaining to old Abby Girl what the word “surgery” means- yep-that’s 30 minutes I’ll never get back.
I continue: ”You must promise be on your best behavior Abbadabbbadoo, OK? because she is going to be very fragile, poor Nessa!”
I go on to explain that she is most likely one of those sissy-type breeds, a Chihuahua or maybe a Chinese Crested with missing teeth and all. She’ll probably be wearing a prissy pink sweater that she has to keep on, even indoors, or she’ll catch a life threatening chill. We mustn’t poke fun. Abby hangs onto my every word-which kind of nice. I feel like a big brother for the first time in my life.
Auntie A arrives at 8 pm sharp.
We are lined up at the door, a hairy little receiving line of 2.
And this is what walks through the door:
Poor Nessa, my ass!
A three ton behemoth monster of a dog with a head the size of a Buick lumbers inside. A grisley scar runs down the entire length of her back leg and half of her right ear is torn off. Think: junk yard dog meets Cujo. Not only is she is the most frightening creature I have ever seen; this girl looks like she knows her way around a knife fight. Abby suggests we frisk her and we both take a few steps closer to Mom. Nessa strolls past us without uttering a word, but I can imagine what she is thinking;
“Back off kids: I eat dogs bigger than you for breakfast!”
A gnarled stick, the size of a telephone poll, is clamped in her giant mouth; she twirls it around like a damn toothpick.
Now Readers, let me stop right there and reflect on how this moment can serve as a lesson to us all.
Things aren’t always as they appear.
That night, Nessa couldn’t make it up the stairs to go to sleep, too much pain in the back leg from all of her surgeries. Mom tried to help, pushing from behind, but Nessa is so big and heavy. After just 3 steps poor Nessa sighed, found her giant stick, and slowly walked into the living room to rest on Jeanie’s old fluffy bed. That night, upstairs in my bed, I lay awake thinking of her all alone down there and I realized that big old stick in nothing more than a giant binky.
I drifted off and dreamed I was sleeping beside her.
Nessa stayed with us for a week, and she was a wonderful guest: quiet, graceful and polite. She carried that binky-stick everywhere she went and (according to her) the best moments with us were sitting in the sun munching on her stick while Mom pulled weeds in the garden. I hear she finally found her forever family, her achy bones have healed, and she can finally walk up the stairs unassisted. Her new mom doesn’t call her poor Nessa anymore- She calls her “Sweet Nessa.” I feel a rush of for love for Auntie A, for sticking by Nessa through thick and thin.
Abby left a week after that, odd to admit, but miss her. It seems like the ones who turn your life upside down so completely leave the biggest hole when they are gone. I was sure Mom wouldn’t cry this time around- but she did. (weenie)
She was adopted to a wonderful couple with a fenced in yard and a pool (just like Jeanie)
I can’t help but wonder………….
How come WE don’t have pool???