Dog Gone It

"So, yeah, we have the extra room now so come on up whenever. You can also see the new floors."

I went home for a visit over the summer, just a day trip so that Sarah could get some good Middle East cuisine and see the happs in Dearborn. Part of the visit included visiting the house. Mom was the only one there so we all chatted for a while. Mom mentioned that Kathy was going to get around to replacing the 15 year old, dog drool-stained, matted down, faded, generally gross looking carpet once Oreo died.

"Yeah, it's been a fun-filled couple of months, eh? See you next week."

I'm sure it was for the best. That dog did not have the life it should have had. Oreo was a border collie that really needed acres to run on and a sheep to boss around. Instead, she had my dad who gave her the same sort of diet that he had. All she would do is move around, plop down, and start pinching you when she wanted to be petted. And her pinching hurt. We assume her first owners abused her, as she had an unusual fear of surfaces like hardwood floors or linoleum, thunderstorms, and the hum of the refrigerator. Which probably resulted in her not eating much food as her dish was right next to the fridge.

She was a sweet dog -- but she deserved so much better.