Someone sent my mom a book to review: Bark Up The Right Tree. She read parts of the book to me while I pretended to take a nap. Frankly, there’s just too much competition these days. Everybody and his dog wants a piece of the action.
This dog, Jessie, had a hard life. A child abused her (she doesn’t say how) and then she ended up in a shelter. Wow! Compared to Jessie, my life was easy. Nobody abused me. I ended up in a foster home right away. The foster mom wanted to adopt me but her family said, “We have enough dogs now.” So I hung out with them a few weeks.
My foster mom was a real salesperson. “She looks so cute playing with the puppies.” And, “She’s sitting on the rug, chewing her chew toys.”
“Does she chew anything else?” Cathy asked suspiciously. She was spoiled. Keesha, her First Dog, was a barker, not a chewer.
“Oh no, just toys.” They lied. Or maybe I was on good behavior for a few weeks.
Anyway, Cathy asked a lot of questions about how I got along with the resident cats. When she found out I didn’t eat them, she was happy. (Why would I eat cats? Yuk.)
Back to the book. Ruth decided she wanted a dog named Jessie. By then the dog Jessie had been moved to a foster home, thanks to a private rescue group. Jessie had an upper respiratory infection but she was mellowing. The rescue group listed Jessie on Petfinder as a Lab mix aged seven. (Hey, that’s where Cathy found me! Maybe dogs need to take Internet Marketing courses.)
Ruth originally gave Jessie her own room. Gimme a break. What dog wants to sleep alone? I had to sleep in a crate after I arrived here, but Cathy was right in the next room. And that Jessie is smart like me. We both taught our owners where we want to sleep.
Jessie’s owners were loving and sensitive. Cathy as an owner is much tougher. “My way or the highway,” she likes to say.
But Cathy’s a sucker for stories about dogs who were rescued. When she tells my story, she likes to dress it up. She tells my story to everyone on the bus, in the dog park and on the street. She wants to teach people how wonderful a rescue dog can be.
“When I had Keesha,” she says, “people thought she was a purebred. They’d ask what I paid for her. But everybody knows Gracie’s a mutt.”
What an attitude. I’m keeping my eyes closed. We CUPPIES have to maintain our dignity. I bet Ruth doesn’t talk about Jessie like that.
P.S. My mom said to read her review before you buy the book or give it away. Just click on the book cover.