October 06, 2006

speaking of dawgs

Sophie is beating me to a hysterectomy, mine having been put on hold by a run of good health--hey I'll take it--and she at the vet right now where she is sans uterus and on some $36 pain pills.

Spaying is a good thing--although I wonder how her puppies would have looked, smelled, felt, and I know she'd be a good mom dog. There are so so so many unwanted pets that even the good dogs shouldn't have the chance to breed these days. So I'm feeling responsible, if a little sad about puppies never-to-be-born. Poop never to be cleaned up, couches never chewed.

In other canine fertility news, Molly, the dachshund down the street, recently had a date with nearby a Shitzu, and puppies are due in December, so at least someone's line will be carried on in this neighborhood. Little baby shithounds coming our way. Super.

That's the kind of thing you think about when you're me and 44 and baby days are behind you/me/sophie, but not Molly.


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