Spoiled Little Bitch

Six months ago, we came home from Mass one Saturday to find PJ and Harley (the outside dogs) barking at something. I went on inside the house while MFD went to see what all the fuss was about. Pretty soon I hear her yelling for me to come downstairs. She’s standing at the back door, holding a beautiful, but filthy, Sheltie.

Well, what else could we do but bring her inside?

Yep. And that was my undoing.

She was covered in mats and burrs and ticks. She was so tangled in areas that I had to cut it out, and she laid there on her back just as calm as could be. She was such a good little girl.

Of course I did the right thing. Called vets and clinics, talked to neighbors, put up signs. She even came with a rabies tag from a city clear up on the north side of the metro area. Nothing.

So after two weeks, we named her Ellie and she became MINE.

It took her no time at all to learn where she was supposed to go to do her business. She barked when she wanted something. If it was wet outside, she would sit and offer you her front paws, one at a time, to be cleaned off, then she would stand so you could do the back. She never complained about a bath and sat so patiently when I clipped her nails.

We found out early she liked to go bye-bye. She jumped right in the back and made herself comfortable. Unless the front seat was empty--then she would come sit up there with me. So she went with me every day to take the girls to school. As long as I wasn’t going to be gone somewhere for long, like grocery shopping, she went everywhere with me. She went to Lovi’s for Halloween. She even went down to Hubby’s mom’s farm for Thanksgiving and Easter, and to Hollyb and her DB’s for New Years.

Hubby’s mom said she hoped Miss Ellie knew she was already in doggie heaven because she had found a home with us. His mom has said before that when she dies, she wants to come back as one of my pets!

If I had to leave her behind, she would get so excited when I returned. Jumping up and down like a circus dog on a pogo stick, yipping and yelping like she was saying “Oh, you’re home, you came back, you didn’t leave and forget about me!”

She loved attention, and when we moved over to the main house, she followed me around wherever I went. While we were building, if I let her outside and I had to go over to the new house, she would go all the way around to the other side of the house to get in through the garage, then she’d come straight over to where I was.

She and the cats have taken awhile to adjust to being on the same floor in the same house. Slowly but surely. One morning, Hubby and MFD left early while I was still in bed. There goes Ellie, click click click click of the toenails on the tile, when she hears the garage door go up. Seconds later, click click click click, then she lands in bed with me—because the cats were right behind!

She was a great little watchdog. She’d start barking before PJ and Harley did if someone was coming down the drive, so I called her “my vicious guard dog.” It took her a little while to be comfortable with strangers, but eventually she’d let them pet her. But even when Hubby and MFD were around, she preferred to be with Mama. She was one spoiled little bitch.

Tick season is upon us, so while Harley was at the vet’s yesterday, I took the opportunity to get the other two checked out, update their shots, and get their tick and heartworm medication.

When it was Miss Ellie’s turn, I asked the vet to see if she had a microchip, just to be sure. If I had lost her, I’d want her returned, so it would only be fair to see if someone had registered her.

She had a chip, and my stomach dropped.

The vet wrote down the info on the chip and gave me the number to the company, and said she’d leave it up to me whether to call or not.

Well what else can I do? I had to see if someone had spent the time and money to register her, or I couldn’t have lived with myself.

So I called. She was registered. The guy took my name and number and address. Then I started crying.

Minutes later I get a call from her owners. They’re in the area, and want to know if they can come get her in half an hour. No, I’m sorry, this is my dog now and you can’t have her. I’m crying the whole time and the lady asks if I’m ok. “No.” Of course I’m not ok, you’re coming to take my dog. She said she was sorry, she knew it was easy to get attached to “Lacy.” Well duh. How’s about we give you a cigar? You aren’t sorry, you’re gonna have the dog, MY dog.

So we go outside to wait. They get here, and my vicious guard dog barks at the car. But after they got out and called her name and she figured out who they were, she got excited.

Turns out they were out of town in October, and their son was keeping Lacy and her sister, Sophie. One minute Lacy was across the road, playing with another small dog, the next she was gone.

They told me she had just turned six in March, which was younger than the vet estimated—ten. The two dogs liked to go for rides in the guy’s white Miata, with the top down, to get ice cream.

They were a nice couple, maybe in their 50’s or 60’s. I knew from her behavior she had been well cared for, and must have been loved. So I couldn’t blame them.

Now the fargin’ icehole of a son is a different story. Is he blind, that he didn’t see the signs I had put up? No way he could have missed them. And it appears Lacy was on her own for almost two weeks before she landed here.

So I’m pi$ed and upset and I want my dog back. MFD didn’t take it well, either, especially since the dog was gone by the time she got home from school. “I know it’s hard, dear, but you’d want someone else to do the same thing for us if it was our dog” just doesn’t cut it.

Sometimes it just friggin’ SUCKS to do the right thing.

I miss the clicking of her toenails.Flo