Poor Puppy

We have been dogsitting. For almost a year. Thanksgiving will mark the anniversary of dogsitting my nephew's pooch. My nephew went off the edge after my brother died and got into drugs. We did a drug intervention with him last Thanksgiving and put him on a plane to rehab. I voluteered to dogsit one of his two dogs.

Truly, this has to be the best mannered dog I've ever encountered. She is a Rotw+@# mix (I don't know how to spell it and am too lazy to google). I've never been much on dog breeds with a ferocious connotation. This dog however, doesn't have a mean bone in her body. I know. We just had her x-rayed. But I'll get to that in a minute.

Abby is ultra submissive. My two children have applied every tolerance test imaginable - and they've got good imaginations. She never does more than look pathetic. She rarely will even get up and leave.

Since she is not mine, and I had every intention of her returning to her rightful owner, I set out to enjoy her, but not become attatched. Every month I reminded everyone that she is not mine. Abby did not share my sentiments. She glued herself to me from the beginning. She follows me from room to room, sometimes so closely she walks on the back of my heels. She waits outside the bathroom door while I take a bath. She thinks, though she weighs 50+ lbs, that she is a lap dog. And she has declared my lap as hers. I remind myself often that she poops in my back yard, sheds on my furniture, and has to be made arrangements for if we go somewhere. She is not mine.

Two nights ago, it came to me that I think, perhaps, she is too ingrained in my life and heart to be removed. For some strange reason, I am the only one for whom this was a revelation.

In the morning, I treated her to a ride as I took my son to school. She was so excited. After we got back, I noticed she wasn't acting quite right. Abby is a dog of comfort. She won't lay on the floor if there is a perfectly good couch available. She won't lay on a couch if there is a perfectly good bed available. I noticed that she wasn't on the most comfortable furniture nearest me. She was on the floor at my feet. I got on the bed and called her up. She acted like she wanted to come sooo bad, but didn't. Finally she jumped up with a yipe in midair then came over to me whimpering and crying.

Admittedly, I've thought that people who spend a lot of money on their pets taking them to the vet were crazy. I couldn't drive there fast enough. One vet visit, two x-rays, and a whole lotta cash later (thanks mom), we think that she has disk problems in her back. She's on Prednisone. The vet said it will either help her, or she will continue to deteriorate and have to have surgery or be put down. I can't afford to fill my tank all the way up with gas, how could I afford surgery for a dog? But put the best dog in the world down? I just got her!