Another shaggy dog book

This is what happens when you get adopted by an owner who reads books and haunts the library. You’re curled up on the couch, trying to get some serious shut-eye, when your mom decides to share what she’s reading.

So she reaches over and gives me a gentle pat on the back. I half-open my eyes to let her know I’m trying to be polite. We Canine Urban Princesses (CUPPIEs) never forget who we are. But really, mom, I’m trying to sleep here. After all, I’m not allowed to disturb my mom’s slumbers. Let’s be fair.

Today she was sharing a book she borrowed from the library, Rescuing Sprite. Author Mark R. Levin is an attorney who’s somehow involved in politics. (My mom isn’t overly into politics, as you probably guessed.) He wrote a totally sappy, emotional book about adopting an elderly dog named Sprite. His other dog was Pepsi. Yep. Pepsi and Sprite.

Sadly, those people didn’t get to enjoy Sprite very long. He was old when they adopted him and he started failing about a year after they took him in. They were dedicated, caring owners and that dog spent a lot of time and money at the vet.

Meanwhile, Mark Levin has problems with his own heart. He needs to work out and eat better, my mom said critically, looking at his photos.

My mom thought the author spent way too much time dealing with grief. Sure, losing a dog or cat is hard. (I know. I had to be there for Mom when Tiger left and when Ophelia got sick, even though I personally think of most cats as easily disposable). But Cathy says, “We all have to go when it’s our time. As a human, I’m more afraid of being trapped in a miserable nursing home with doctors forcing painful, useless treatment on me. I hope I can exit the earth as peacefully as Tiger did.”

Thank goodness Mark Levin’s family insisted they get another dog right away. My mom doesn’t believe in waiting, either. Too many animals need homes, she says.

True. When I go, I want Mom to adopt another dog right away. Then she’ll look back on me the way she remembers Keesha: perfect. She’ll forget all those late-night walks when my tummy does the tango. She’ll forget how I pull on her leash and chew everything that isn’t nailed down.
She’ll focus on the new dog’s faults for a change.

Of course there are exceptions. Did she have to rush out and get Ophelia? Couldn’t we wait for a cat that was..well, more like a dog?

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