Auntie Hols gets some puppy breath therapy 7/25/08
Teh puppeh is fine as frog hair. She is 8 pounds of cute in a 2.3 pound bag. (ha, schnoobie!)
A neighbor stopped me yesterday and told me his girlfriend wants to abduct my puppeh. I said she'd have a fight on her hands.
Took Praline to the vet on Monday for her second round of shots. Dr. Parker came by the desk as we were checking in, and said "oh, that puppy is going to get some very unattractive spots, I can tell it's going to be an ugly dog. You'd better leave it with us," and he grinned, besotted. Says I "you think you may be able to find a home for her, one that would overlook her deficiencies?" He said "I do."
She proceeded to do the little charmer routine with all the people in the waiting room--even the cat people. Everyone just grinned like a bunch of loonies at her. She's just like that, my doggie is.
In the exam room, they took her temperature and she did protest much, howling like they were skinning her alive. Poor baby. The shot wasn't much better. Thank goodness they trimmed her little needle claws before the other indignities. She was figuring out about them. Various assistants kept coming into the room to coo and giggle over her. They all had to hold her. Most brought treats.
Time for the doctor to come in, and the two vets drew straws to see which would get to examine my puppy. She sat demurely, patiently as she was examined, primly crossing her front paws at the ankle as she lowered to her belly on the table. She's got great style.
As of today we can go to the dogpark and meet other doggies. YAYS!
Breda linked a Nellie McKay song earlier this week, and she has the best dog song ever. It fits.