Happy to Be a Hooker

This is me at my doctor’s office.

15170850_1125386220863521_1070032391911880784_n

That’s the picture my mom saw on Saturday, November 26th. Within the hour, she was sitting on the concrete floor next to me. My mom understands animals, but, she held back tears and turned away from my neck at first.

 

Mom was a little scared. Looking back, I can see why. Both the doctor and the vet techs assured her it would be okay.

I, however, wasn’t scared. From the minute I met mom, I knew I was safe. In fact, even with my open wound, I jumped in our Honda Element and found a donut.

At home, I fit right in with my furry brothers and sisters.

Mom said, “It’s bieshert.”  Bieshert is a Yiddish word. It means “meant to be.”

img_5061

My first Christmas was beyond anything I could have dreamed. In the weeks leading up to the big day, packages kept arriving from our Kaibab Family. Our Kaibab Family consists of people and dogs across the country. Mary-Ann Bowman connects us with Secret Santa. Grandma came up to wrap presents.

However, on December 21st, I stopped in to have my staples removed. My doctor felt a new mass and decided to remove it. This time mom made sure it was biopsied. Mom was a bit weepy that day, but remained committed to celebrating Christmas.

I didn’t think it could get any better. Then, on Christmas Eve, a true Secret Santa sent me my very own BARKBOX.  Oh, my DOG!

I still can’t believe that someone who doesn’t even know me, cared enough to send me a my favorite gift. I shared the treats with my fur-mily.

On Christmas Day, I ate ham at Grandma’s. Then, I took all of our fur-mily gifts home.

Now, in 2017, we have a routine.

On the weekdays, we wake mom up at 4:30 am.

The kitty cats scurry into their private room to have breakfast.

Then, we tumble down the stairs. Mom calls us “hooligans” and says, “If I fall down the stairs, there won’t be anyone to feed you.”

We go outside.

Mom gets my medicine. She packs Gabapentin and Tramadol in Pill Pockets. (I refuse to eat them in anything else and since mom says I can have whatever I want . . . well.)

My sister Faith and I each eat a chewable Rimadyl, too.

Mom hits the GO button on the coffee pot and we all go back to bed for an hour.

We’ve had a LOT of snow this week. So, when we really get up at 5:30, mom makes our breakfast, drinks a cup of coffee, and returns emails.

Then, she snowblows are driveway. We live on the “dark side” (not in an evil Lord Vader kind of way, but on the dark side of the street, the side that doesn’t have sunshine in the winter). Which, is actually good because then we get to keep our snow. Faith and I like that.

Mom gets dressed for school. When she bends over to dry her hair or pick something up, I’m right there! I slide between her legs so she can rub my neck and chest.

All morning long, she says, “Remember, I’ll be back after school.”

She also tells us, “I go to school so I can pay the mortgage so we can live in our $500,000 dog house, buy food and pay for veterinary care.”

Really, all we care about is that she comes home.

AND . . .when she comes home, we go CRAZY for her.

She pretends to ignore our barking, jumping and running around like wild animals, but I see her smile.

When we calm down, mom gives me more medicine and feeds us.

Then, we go MUCKING.

Sometimes, I drive.  Sometimes, mom drives.

While I’ve always been a Princess, being Princess Hooker is THE BEST. While I may be a bit tired and not always feel 100%, I’m happier than I’ve ever been.

I wish every dog lived like this for their whole life.

Advertisements

About hookershorde

I am a school teacher, animal advocate and rescuer, yogi, and happy!
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s