On July 4, while everyone was thinking about what they wanted to do for the holiday, where they wanted to eat, and where they'd watch fireworks, I was out getting a dog. We knew we'd be moving to our new house in a couple of weeks, so it wasn't a hard decision for me to make, but it was somewhat difficult to find the right dog. I had to be pretty picky, and I almost changed my mind twice when it happened.
The thing is, I wanted a smaller dog—something around 10-15 pounds when fully grown. I wanted someone to play with and be friends with Roseleigh, Laura's dog. I also wanted her to learn from Ginger and be my side-of-the-couch buddy when Ginger decided to leave me for Laura, which she's been doing lately. Don't ask me why; I have treated that dog very well for nearly 10 years!
I answered the ad, and I picked up the dog. She wasn't small. From the moment I saw her, I knew her owners were either ignorant or they had played me. She was obviously part or mostly Schnauzer, and it wasn't a Mini-Schnauzer either, which would mean, when fully grown, she would be at least 25-30 pounds, a medium-sized dog. OK, I can handle that. What the other part of her was anyone's guess - until we nailed it by looking up various mixes and found a "breeder," if you will, in the area she came from. She's a designer dog; a "Schnollie" and what makes me laugh, is that she's not just part rough or regular collie, she's part Border Collie; of course she is. She's a terror on four legs! That girl can run!
Laura didn't really like Kiah; she (Laura) wanted a dog with better manners, one that could catch on to commands and be trained to sit, stay, roll over, you know - dog stuff. Kiah would rather run around you, bark, jump up, and play tag after she steals your socks. She's learning. We're working on the politeness, but I don't think she'll ever be a candidate for Miss Emily's Perfect Pooch - - not going to happen. She's too spirited for that. We decided if we could find her a good home with a good family, and a large backyard, we'd let her be rehomed -- that didn't happen either. She snarled at anyone who thought about taking her -- she never snarled at either of us, just anyone trying to take her from us. Guess I'm keeping her... It looks a lot like I am keeping Kiah.
Because we're good pet people, I called my favorite veterinarian, Dr. Sam Crosby, Sr., and scheduled her shots, spay, and all the bells and whistles for today. She turned seven months old somewhere in the middle of the month. I wanted her to have her first cycle before doing it. She and I talked about it, and though I know she wasn't paying close attention, she can't say I didn't tell her exactly what to expect. That's why I was so shocked when I picked her up from Dr. Crosby's this afternoon!
Don't get me wrong, when I took her water away from her last night and didn't give her anything this morning, she was inquisitive. Then, I took her on a long car ride before going to work, and she was excited but curious. After we reached the vet's office, a place she had personally never visited, she couldn't figure it out - - but again, I told her exactly what was going to happen - it wasn't as if I held it back or surprised her. I told her everything, even the gross parts. She didn't seem to give a care! Not once!
When I left, I did notice she was confused, and I guess maybe I should have stayed because when I got the call telling me I could pick her up after she'd rested three or four hours, I was informed that she didn't go so easily into the great white room! She's apparently a biter! Who knew? I certainly didn't know. I told the doctor and the staff that she was new to me, that she had not wanted to be adopted by anyone, that she was a snarler -- but I had no idea she was a snapper -- she's pretty good at it too, from what they said.
I went to the back where she was caged - caged!! They caged my dog! (It's OK; we won't freak about it, but she had never been in one before.) She was on the groomer's side, and she was the ONLY dog in the place that wasn't a Standard Poodle. I had to laugh. Monday must be Poodle Day. There were 5 giant dogs in the room all being so proper and pristine, then there was my little demon dog -- snarling away -- until she saw me. Then she was putty...just pure liquified putty - melting all over the place, trying to get to me. What a sweetie.
I brought her home, but she was still pretty much feeling the drugs. Her tongue hung to the side, and she stared at me with crossed eyes. She fell asleep and has been next to me the entire evening - she did have a moment of upset belly and I called to verify that vomiting after surgery was normal; I knew it was, I can't help myself after I'm under the knife - - gross, but true. She's going to be out of it for the night and part of tomorrow for sure, and the drugs will last about a week, both painkillers and antibiotics. She's probably never going to trust me again when I take her for a joy ride, but the good news is, she won't be making any rowdy biting brats either -- nope, she's the last of her kind....sort of.
Poor baby Kiah -- she'll be OK, but it's not easy being a puppy, obeying all the rules, and then having someone take your guts out when you expect to get an ice cream. She's still staring at me, but I think it's because she wants me to give up my sock. I may have to do that.
Doc Crosby said Kiah weighed 28.5 pounds and came out of the surgery like a champ—and she was not happy about it.
Photo Credit: Me (Kiah)
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