Here’s the beginning of Tulip’s story.
Her Royal Worminess seems to have recovered. (Oh please, oh please, oh please.)
After my second day of professional development (WHY ON EARTH WOULD MY DISTRICT DO THIS AT THE END OF THE SCHOOL YEAR INSTEAD OF THE BEGINNING?), I’m fucking zonked. I head home, throw Violet and Redford in the house, pitch Tulip out—she hasn’t vaulted the fence lately—and pass out on my bed.
Tulip’s so mad
Yes, that’s one of the ones she chewed through before and my brother-in-law fixed once already. Grrrrr.
But three minutes later when I’m changing the sheets on my bed, and Tulip won’t stop looking at me and wagging her tail—just sitting there wagging—I’m forced to coo at her and scratch her silly jaws. She’s so goddamn cute.
The family tells the organization that they like Tulip but they’re still going to meet other dogs.
Still doing the give-m’self-rope-burns-behind-the-knees technique™ on walks. It works. But it gives me rope burns.
Every day, I tell myself, “Today is the day I’ll introduce the dogs again.” And then I don’t.
We go to Auntie Wa’s house for the afternoon. Tulip makes friends at the wire fence with the neighbor dogs and has words at the privacy fence with the other-side neighbor dogs. But she runs back and forth 75 times trying to git them mouthy bastards and thus wears herself out, so that’s OK by me.
Now that her gastrointestinal issues are resolved, she gets so excited about breakfast.
(And look at how she waits for the signal now! Remember how she couldn’t do that? Now she can.)
(Ring around the collar provided by the cheap jewelry she wears.)
Still haven’t introduced the dogs. I’m the worst.