This picture arrived on my cell phone around noon yesterday. I knew my daughter and her fiance were visiting their friend’s farm and that their friend professionally shows and breeds dogs, so I thought hmmmm, okay. She’s just showing me a cute puppy, a long-haired daschund. There’s no way she’s going to take it home, because she just got two sugar gliders to add to her menagerie of two bulldogs, six fish tanks, and a cat. Then came the phone call:
Daughter: Oh mom. You have to take him! He’s blind in one eye, and they can’t find a home for him. ____’s wife wants to put him down!
Me: I don’t know, Lis. . .blind? Was it injury or disease? Did they have his eye removed?
Daughter: No, no. He was born that way. It’s a birth defect. He’s got his eye, it’s just cloudy.
Me: I don’t know. He may need surgery, and that’s expensive. And there’s neutering, and shots. . . And how has he been raised so far? In the barn? You know, Hanna is very peculiar about dogs she’ll socialize with. . .and boys are harder to train than girls, and then there’s the whole breeder issue…
Daughter: Hanna loves small dogs. He’ll always be small, and he’s a total lap dog. All he wants to do is be held. He was so meant to be with you. Trust me on this, mom. You’ll love him.
Daughter: If you don’t take him, they’re probably going to put him down next week.
Daughter: I remember how much you loved the daschund you had when you were a teenager. Sam. Wasn’t that her name?
Daughter: If you were here, you’d take him. You wouldn’t let him die.
Daughter: I know you wouldn’t.
Me: What’s his name?
Daughter: He doesn’t have one yet.
Me: He’s three months old and they didn’t even name him? That’s sad.
Daughter: Isn’t it? He’s so cute, Mom. And such a mellow dog. You’d love him so much.
Daughter: Really, he’s just a love. A total bundle of cuddliness.
Daughter: He’s licking my hand right now. Aw. . .I think he knows I found him a home.
Hudson the one-eyed wonder dog is coming home Tuesday. Whether for the short term, until I can find him a home, or the long term has yet to be decided.
In any case, the vet has been called, puppy stuff has been brought out of storage, and the only thing left to do is break the news to the very well-behaved, settled-into-middle-age, and happily singular Hanna, whom I suspect will not be as easily talked into an unexpected adoption, no matter how cute, cuddly, or pressed for luck.
Maybe I’ll have Elisabeth talk to her.