Another New Dog

Well, Marco came home from taking his girl to work with another new dog. We've had so many new dogs and so many dogs hit by cars that I'm terrified. I'm thinking of calling the new dog Dead because they can't resist the call of the road and don't understand that if you chase an 18-wheeler and run between its wheels you're just Ted Nugent road kill and ready for the skillet or another hole in our back yard.
Marco got this dog, a real real beautiful black dog with brown feet we're going to call Sneakers, from a woman who was giving them away. He's had no shots, no nothing and is 8 weeks old. Pick him up and smell him and he still has his birth fur, that thick and still angel-scented fur of just being born. I'll get him shots tomorrow and he'll quickly learn to distrust me because when I pick him up I'm going to stick a needle into his neck and shoulder muscle. It will prevent distemper, which Blue had and which was awful to witness, despite, or perhaps because of how much I loved Blue. But the dog will still never trust me again. Nuts.
And Marco spend the afternoon fixing holes in the fencing behind the house. That's an area of about 40 foot by 80 foot, plenty of room to live in. But that dog is still going to see the other fence, the one the goats live in, which is 300 feet by 200 feet and want to be there. And then this dog is going to notice that Boots can go over the whole property, ignoring fences, and cross the road, and chase ambulances and fire engines and he's going to want to do that. And what he is not going to know is that Boots got hit by a car and broke his hips at six months. I nursed him back to health after setting his hips (I got lucky on that one, believe me) for months, carrying him to a place to poop, staying up some nights when he was in extreme pain, giving him a little beer or whiskey to alleviate the pain to allow him to sleep--doing what any pal would do when a friend is sick. And now Boots is the best guard dog in the world. He doesn't bite but boy he looks scary. The mailman knows him for two years and is still terrified. And god-forbid the people who need our driveway to turn around in: Boots has them peeing in their pants. But then Boots knows to stay on the side of the road, in the ditch, even when chasing cars or bicyclists. And he wakes me at night if there's anything suspicious. He can bark pretty fiercely.
Best of all, Boots, like his father Spike, the greatest dog who ever lived and who disappeared while I was on a trip last year, poops and pees at least 100 yards from the house. He's a real gentleman that way.
And now there's Sneakers. What a gorgeous baby. I've always taken care of my human babies, whether mine or just in my charge, very well. I might be boring but I teach them what to do and how to do it and how to think for themselves and how to accept love and how to avoid fake love and how to work and all that jazz. I've been less successful with my dogs. They have all, except for Blue and Spike, wanted to run under car wheels on a 60 mph road. And they've always lost, which is why my garden soil is so damned productive. We've probably lost 8 dogs in the last six years. And I wish we had every one of them because they were all fantastic.
Anyway, this is the announcement that we've got a new dog, Sneakers, and that I hope and pray we can keep him in the interior fenced back yard and that he can have a great life and live till he's 20.
And in the oven is a 7-pound boneless pork roast sitting on celery, onion and garlic and surrounded by carrots and sliced potatoes and that was probably someone's pet pig. And I'm sorry I had that pig killed. Along with being sorry for the celery and other veggies. All of you will eat my dogs or me in short order. And I hope we serve you as well as you're going to serve us tonight.
Amen
Let's eat.