My heart broke when I had to return Daisy, and of course I wrote about the experience in my blog. After reading that blog, Dani’s breeder, a wonderful woman named Lisa, wrote to ask if I’d be interested in a special
puppy. Another of her girls had had a little two months after Dani was born, and one of the fawn boys had an eye that looked as if it might be a birth defect. Both Lisa and I remembered that when I first called her after Charley’s passing, I had asked for a fawn boy, and had ended up with a brindle girl (whom I love, naturally!) .
I told Lisa that my heart was feeling pretty raw, but deep inside I knew that in a few days I’d be willing to say yes, so I went ahead and said it. The puppy, who is officially named Epic’s William Charles
the Conqueror, in honor of Charley, will be called Billy. The name’s not flashy, but it ought to be easy for everyone to say and hear.
In the mean time, I did research on eye problems in dogs, and had decided that IF the puppy has to have the eye removed, I’m going to look into getting him a prosthetic eye. As the Lord would have it, that very week I discovered that one of my neighbor’s dogs has a prosthetic eye, and it looks wonderful. I could do the same for Billy . . . if I take lots and lots of photographs in my new business. 🙂 We still don’t know if the weak eye will get better or worse, but we’re going to monitor the situation.
Billy was eight weeks old on Friday, and Saturday I spent the day at a GET RESCUED event in Gulfport. But today . . .
This morning I got up in the dark and the hubby took me to the airport at 6:30 a.m. Two flights up to Minneapolis, a quick hug and greeting for Lisa, a quick exchange of paperwork, and I was on my way with Billy. All of my returning flights had quick turn-arounds, so I was practically sprinting at the airport to get to the gate on time.
Fortunately, my seat was at the back of the airplane. When I flew home with Dani two months ago, the flight attendant told me up front that the dog had to stay in the carrier and on the floor for the duration of the flight. And Dani didn’t utter a peep the entire time; I think she slept through the flight.
Billy, however, was a different story. He whined a little, so I unzipped his bag so we could scratch his head, and soon everyone around me was oooing and ahhing over the puppy. He began to cry at one point, so I lifted the bag onto my lap so we could make sure he was okay. My neighbor even held him while I put a puppy pee pad in the bottom of the bag, and the flight attendants, who were all standing right behind me, didn’t utter a peep. I think they were conveniently pretending not to see the puppy drama unfolding two rows up.
On the descent, however, Billy began to cry in earnest–maybe his ears were hurting? He was crying and yawning, and the girl next to me thought he was sleepy until I told her that dogs yawn when they are stressed. (I spent the flight UP reading a great dog psychology book, INSIDE OF A DOG, by Alexandra Horowitz.) So though he was on the floor of the plane, I rubbed Billy’s ears and crooned to him until we landed. The minute after we touched down, I pulled him out of his carrier and sat him on my lap, eager to let him get some breathing space.
So Billy was sitting in my lap, facing the aisle, when suddenly —blurp! He vomited his last meal all over my right side, the side of my seat, the aisle, and my purse. It’s a good thing that he had charmed all the people around us, because no one complained. The flight attendants were wonderful to hand me piles of paper towels and a can of club soda, and the man across the aisle helped me clean everything up. Meanwhile, Billy–who was obviously feeling much better–sat in the lap of the girl next to me and was having a merry old time being petted by everyone within arm’s length.
It’s a good thing I’ve had children . . . this sort of thing doesn’t faze me. The flight attendant laughed that it’s usually KIDS who are throwing up on the plane.
The time had come to disembark, so I put Billy back in his carrier . . . and then we realized that he had, um, pooped. The stink was prodigious. So I ran to the ladies room and thanked the Lord that I had put down the puppy pee pad. At least I could lift it out and toss it before running–again–to my final connection.
So I did. And Billy slept all the way home again, but he also pooped again, so that by the time we finally landed I’m sure everyone was ready to have smelly old me off the plane.
And so we are home. Billy has been bathed, Dani has followed him around, and now Baby Billy is in his bed–happily–and Dani is wondering why I won’t let her in to eat my keyboard.
Life is pretty much back to normal in the Hunt House.