It’s funny. Yesterday, I was telling my mom how I always fear one of the dogs will get loose, run into the busy street behind our house, and get hit by a car. Because we discussed this right before I retired for the night, I ended up having a nightmare in which that exact situation happened to my beloved Juniper and I had to drive her for miles and miles to a vet while she bled to death on my lap. I woke up in tears and had to hold her for a good five minutes before I felt comfortable enough to fall back asleep.
I was determined to finish my homework at a decent hour today, so I made myself comfortable on my couch while my two dachshunds slept beside me and my other dog Snickers was outside enjoying the beautiful weather. I was entrenched in sketching the polar graph of a conic section when I heard screaming. Screams are fairly common near my house – I live next to a house full of eight children on one side and a cranky working mother on the other. But this scream was different, so I got up and ran to the back door to see Snickers far from where she was supposed to be. Her lead had snapped right in half. What a cruel, cruel coincidence that this would happen the day after that horrendous nightmare.
Of course, getting a hold of her before she could end up somewhere dangerous was the first thing on my mind. Then I spotted the woman on the sidewalk. Before I could even open my mouth, the tirade began. “Your dog bit me. Your dog bit my dog. Does it have it’s shots? You need to control your dog.” I apologized and explained that this has never happened before. She kept going. I got frustrated. I asked her what she wanted me to do. Over and over. I still have no idea what she expected me to say. My neon, star-covered top and unfortunate case of acne made it obvious that I was a teenager, yet she never asked for my parents. Instead, she threatened to call the police. The police. I, a goody two-shoes my entire life, never even do anything that deserves a scolding from my parents or teachers, let alone the police. Now all the sudden they’ll be knocking at my door because of an accident that was out of my control.
I called up my mom, balling, and my dad was thankfully home within the next five minutes. The police were never called, but she did come to our door. All I can hope for is that she doesn’t take advantage of the situation and produce ridiculous medical bills to cover a bruise. Snick is a Cairn terrier. She’s quite tough, but she could barely break skin.
Needless to say, I was left incredibly frazzled. I understand that getting bit by a dog can leave someone shaken, but my dog isn’t a rottweiler, and I’m only seventeen. I was in as much of a panic as she was, yet I was willing to engage in a mature conversation if she initiated one. Since when has yelling over a stranger a third of your age been the adult thing to do? I cried for over an hour. Never have I felt so embarrassed, angry, disrespected, and scared at the same time.
I’ve become incredibly behind on comments, but I promise they will be returned tomorrow.
I’ve wanted another puppy since my last dog, Izzy, got past the puppy stage. I knew The Man (a.k.a. my father) would never support the idea since he didn’t even want Izzy. She was just a bribe to get me to cooperate during our second move. But I pestered him about it anyway. He never budged. I gave up.
Last week he suggested it might be nice to get another puppy. He probably didn’t expect my mom and I to start looking for one immediately, but we found one we wanted by Thursday and picked her up on Sunday.
Say hello to my little Juniper.
I asked for name suggestions on my Twitter and Myspace, and I received plenty of adorable ones like Twinky, Kokomo, and Zuri (my personal favorite). So why did we pick Juniper? It’s a strange name, and, well…we’re a strange family. Those other names are adorable, but something about Juniper just clicked with all of us.
She’s a miniature dachshund like Izzy, but she couldn’t be more different. When Izzy was a puppy, she was calm during the day and would bark all night. Junie is super hyper all day but usually sleeps through the night. At the moment Junie is more of a handful to me than Izzy was. I was never the one who would have to clean up Izzy’s explosive diarhhea at night, but I’m the daytime watchman for Junie. She wants to chew everything and never wants to play by herself. It doesn’t help that my other two dogs are acting like jealous brats.
Despite all that, I already love her. She’s an absolute peach when she’s behaving. By the time I’m back in school she should be pretty well-trained and less of a hassle. If she’s not, I’ll probably have to curl up in the fetal position and cry a little every day after school. I may end up doing that anyway, but we’ll get to that when the time comes.
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