I’m still not quite sure how this happened. One moment I volunteered to dog-sit for the pathetic puppy that my son and daughter-in-law had rescued from the path of a bush hog and nursed back to health. The next I was on the telephone with my husband, who was out of town at a conference. “Remember that beagle puppy the kids are trying to find a home for? Well, they found one.”
Then, mimicking the words of generations of small children before me, I added: “Of course since this was my decision, I’ll do all the work.” And I meant it. . . exactly the way all those little kids had.
Today Nemo, the rascally beagle puppy, is an adult lap dog. While the puppy Nemo never met a creature he didn’t like, the adult Nemo is much more reserved. Show him a deer and he looks the other way. He terrorizes sticks and rocks exclusively, leading us to view more x-rays of a beagle stomach than we ever hoped to see. While he has his private pack, my husband and me, the son and daughter-in-law who rescued him and their dogs, most of the rest of the world is excluded, unless they come with treats in hand. I spent more money this past week discussing Nemo’s peculiarities with my vet than I would have spent at a psychiatrist. (more…)