Dear Little Miss Perfect – I mean Lina,

Just read “Another Hasty Exit.”  I think you forgot to mention that you chewed up Dr. Becca’s iPhone earbuds during your blissful week with the Bs.  Just saying . . .

Momma

Momma was leaving town again and she was bound and determined there be no issues or drama this time for Dr. Becca or Nanny Becky.  I don’t think she was as concerned about inconveniencing them as she was about another humiliating Blog post.

She almost made it.  She had dog food, bones, and treats on hand.  She even managed to leave a key for Becca so she could get in and out of the house to care for me.  She was, however, running a tad behind as usual and quite harried as she prepared to catch a ride to the airport.  Since I hadn’t gone potty for an eternity, Momma decided she should take me out, even though she really couldn’t spare the time.  “Hurry up Lina, let’s go potty!” she commanded.  She clipped me to my leash and then, forgetting what she was doing, ran to the kitchen to make coffee for the road.  I trailed behind her, wondering what happened to my potty trip.

As Momma attempted to force the lid on the coffee cup, it squished out of her grasp and the steaming hot liquid flew everywhere.  The counter, the cabinets, the drawers, the floor and her clothing were all drenched.  The hot coffee even burned her skin in places, and for a brief moment, she thought of suing someone over this (the figure $3 million crossed her mind).

But first things first:  In pain and nearly hysterical, Momma began hopping around and yelling, “Lina, Lina!” while I watch in horror (with my legs crossed).  She became a maniac at this point, trying to rip her clothing off and clean up the mess at the same time.  Taking me to the bathroom was the last thing on her mind.

When Momma finished wiping up the coffee and had carefully selected a new traveling ensemble, she finally remembered that I was running around with my leash attached, desperately needing to go potty.  Now really out of time, she pulled me out the door shrieking, “Hurry, Lina, go potty quick – Momma’s gotta leave right now!!!”  Luckily I was able to perform and off she went.

In her haste, Momma had left the coffee-soaked clothing, including her favorite sweater, in the laundry room.  Suddenly it occurred to her that if someone could take her sweater to the cleaners immediately, they might be able to save it.  Becca was coming over anyway, and Momma thought she would just call and give her a little heads up.  It seems Momma forgot that Becca had a full time job and might not be up at 6:30 on a Saturday morning.  Since Becca didn’t answer, she left a message and then called Becky – just in case she was standing at the ready with nothing to do.

When Momma got to the airport and – temporarily – came to her senses, she realized that a stained sweater maybe may not be the national emergency she thought it was, and texted the Bs to apologize and explain.  (She was also a little nervous that this might be the last straw for both of them.)  By then, however, the Bs had come to the rescue and the precious sweater was already at the cleaners.

The morning’s emergency over, Momma’s worries now turned to the Blog.  She texted Becca, warning her that I better not broadcast her latest fiasco and referring to me as “The Little Tattletail.”

With Momma finally out of my fur, things calmed down at home and my week with the Bs progressed nicely.  They often reported to Momma on our activities, in case her thoughts ever turned to me.  Becca told Momma that she took me along to run errands and even to work (“To what?” Momma queried) one day.  Becca also sent a photo of my new Halloween toy:

Me with my Hedgehog!

And my new size-appropriate pink harness:

Don’t tell Momma I said this, but I saw her studying the picture when trying to figure out how to put it on me.

Mercifully there are never any emergencies when the Bs are in charge and we had a fun, relaxing week.  All too soon though, Momma’s (and my!) vacation was over and she returned.  In case you are wondering, the stain did not come out of the sweater, the replacement cost of which can only hurt the Bottom Lina.

Lina, The Little Tattletail

WOOFDA!

This morning Momma discovered to her dismay that she was out of K-Cups for her coffee maker.  Thus, she decided she would have to venture out to get her required caffeine fix.  She also decided that we would stop at the local pet salon on the way and get my nails clipped (compliments of Nanny).  This went well and the ladies even trimmed the matted fur by my ears.  (Ahem!)

After my “grooming” visit, we were off to get coffee.  That was not as easy as it might sound.  We couldn’t go to the nearest coffee shop because she was boycotting it.  She felt she must make a statement due to the company’s politically correct policies and practices with which she did not agree.  Momma was really on her high horse about this.  (“We’re going to hit them where it hurts, Lina – in the pocket book!”)

She really needed a cup of coffee though and had already equivocated, deciding that buying just one cup from them wouldn’t be a huge breach of her boycott – or make much of a difference to them.  However, she really needed the K-Cups, too – and that was more of a major purchase – and a boost to the company bottom line.  She decided to stick to her guns and go somewhere else.

Just then, though, Momma remembered that this PC company did give away a great doggie treat – and that the doggie treat was FREE!  Now Momma was facing a really big dilemma – should she stand on principle or get a free treat for me (a dream come true for her)?

As we sped into their drive-through lane, I was already licking my chops.

YUM!

Lina, One Happy Pup!

WOOFDA!

As you might expect, Momma is a big proponent of the trickle down theory of economics, where all the money starts at the top and allegedly trickles down to the little guy.  As you also might expect, Momma doesn’t always practice what she preaches – the only thing that trickles down at our house are spending cuts.

Arguably the best example of her version of the trickle down(to dog) theory was when I got stung on my paw by what I can only assume was a bee.  We were at the end of the driveway retrieving the mail when the sting occurred.  It hurt like heck and I immediately let out a little yelp and started hopping around, signaling my distress to Momma.  She paid little attention at first though, engrossed as she was with her daily stack of catalogs from Nordstrom and Neiman.  Finally, though, she couldn’t help but notice that I was only walking on three legs.

Grudgingly (“now what, Lina?”), Momma did a little exam of the injured paw and saw that it was bright pink and two of the pads were quite swollen.  Not knowing anything about insect stings, especially on dogs, Momma was once again forced to call the vet’s office.  (What if she did nothing and I died – how would she explain that to her friends?)  The nice young technician who answered the phone suggested that Momma bring me in.

When we pulled up a few minutes later, Momma examined my paw again in the car and saw that it was looking much better.  At that point she almost bolted, but then she had a better idea – she would ask the tech to take a quick (free) look to confirm, but avoid the vet and his fee.  Amazingly, the tech agreed, said the paw looked good, and we were on our way – Momma breezily calling out “no charge, right?” as she whisked me out the door.  I only hope we have no reason to return anytime soon.

Momma’s stinginess is not strictly limited to the vet of course.  One of my favorite gifts from the infamous birthday party was a gift certificate from Nanny Becky for our neighborhood pet salon.  Nanny thought it was about time that I got a nice shampoo and blowdry.  Momma immediately nixed the idea though, informing me that Nanny would continue to give me my baths in the laundry room sink (so much for benefits trickling down to the little guy).

After a bath with Nanny!

She said that the certificate would be used only for the occasional – my guess would be annual – nail clipping.  As a result, I have been reduced to “paw tucking” until Momma can squeeze in an appointment for my nails.

One area in which Momma doesn’t scrimp is on my “calming aid” treats.  Nanny had suggested them to help with anxiety during thunderstorms.  What Nanny didn’t realize (but frankly should have) was that Momma would use them to drug me whenever she wanted a little free time.  And judging by the number we go through, I’m pretty sure the aids do not trickle down to just me.

Lina – Fur A New Deal

WOOFDA!!

Paw Script:  Yesterday Momma got a card in the mail reminding her that I am due for my Bordetella Shot and Wellness Examination.  She has already determined that:

A)  I do not need the shot because I am not going to a bordello anytime soon, and

B)  I am well.