Daisy wags her tail a lot more these days. She’s been on Prozac ever since the unfortunate park incident, the one I paid for last week when the owner of the five-pound dog brought over the vet bill, three and a half months after the fact.
No worries. I told him I’d pay the bill, and I did. Luckily Daisy just roughed up the dog a little but didn’t kill it. She’s twenty pounds of muscle, and she was hyper-psycho to see that tiny ball of fluff on her ball-throwing turf.
Never again will Daisy be loose in the park. It could’ve ended so much worse than it did.
Of all the dogs I’ve ever owned (there have been many) Daisy is by far the most difficult. She’s also the fastest (we had a greyhound) and the smartest (I had an Australian heeler). I bought her a slow bowl because she ate her food so fast she’d throw it back up. Now she just flips the bowl with her paw and eats her food off the floor.
Daisy can open doors and gates. She can catch rats and squirrels and kill them by shaking them to death but not leave a mark on them. She’s not too good at finding balls in my crowded back yard and often comes back without one. No worries. Pepper can find a ball anytime, anywhere. She gets a treat for every ball she brings to me after I play ball with Daisy.
Daisy is so hard to walk that I avoid it. If someone else walks her, she knows how to wiggle out of her harness. On my last trip to the beach, I had the windows rolled down halfway. Daisy was tethered to the head rest, but when she saw the neighbor’s cat under their car, at the end of the shared driveway, she rolled down the window, jumped out, wiggled out of her harness and went after the cat before I’d even stopped the car. Fortunately, the cat got away. I don’t’ know think a dead cat would’ve gone over well with the neighbors.
The vet said I could bump up the dosage of the Prozac if needed. Daisy gets 10 mg once a day. Some of my relatives take 40 mg once a day, but they weigh over 100 pounds. Daisy weighs 20 lbs. My offspring said no to doubling her dose.
So far, so good. I save money this way, too.
Between the neighbor’s vet bill and the Prozac, Daisy is an expensive dog. But to see her today, accepting belly rubs and wagging her tail when I walk in the door, I know that her quality of life is much better now. When the vet suggested Prozac four years ago, I turned up my nose to it. My dog didn’t need Prozac. I was wonderful with dogs and could win her over.
Yup. Wrong. Daisy has been the hardest dog I’ve ever owned. Being a teacher for ten years, I like to say that I never met a kid I couldn’t teach. Daisy has shown me the light.
There are degrees of success. I’ve had my little wins over the four years with Daisy. And some losses.
Daisy has her enemies. Just ask Cookie, a fluffball belonging to a friend. Daisy lives a tense life with Pepper and Violet, who’ve both learned how to keep her crazy at bay.
It’s a good thing she’s cute.
FIRST DATE, WORST DATE EVER! 