Day 1
We practice “sit” in the yard on three separate occasions. She sometimes still jumps for the treat but several times executes the move perfectly. Yay, Tulip!
It’s hard work, so we sit on the deck to rest.
Day 2
A volunteer picks up Tulip at 6:15am to take her to her heartworm appointment in Greensboro, which is good because I really don’t want to burn $4/gallon gasoline two days in a row.
I miss her.
I buy a car.
Day 3
I drive to Greensboro to pick Tulip up from the vet. She got way cuter while she was gone.
After covering the seats of my new Mazda in old bed sheets, I load her up. Thus far, I have refrained from mentioning Tulip’s nervous tooting problem, but it exists, and she’s always nervous in the car. One hits me as I pull onto the highway.
Rewind a sec: That morning when I post on Facebook about the car, Margo comments, “you bought a new car for 3 dogs to tear up. sheesh.” And I tell her, justifiably so, I think, to
Back in the car, much to my chagrin, I look in the rearview mirror to find that, instead of floating a nervous toot, Tulip is quite literally shitting on my happy. Guess we should’ve taken a potty break before embarking. Thank god I covered the seats. I pull over, clean up the mess, and let her pee. She futzes for the rest of the ride home, giving me tiny heart attacks that something worse will come out of the business end of my foster dog.
We get home without another incident.
She’s pitiful.
She won’t eat dinner, but at least she takes the pills tucked into a glob of peanut butter off my finger.
awwww
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