A Dog Named Sue

Living with a veterinarian carries with it certain obligations.  One of which is to maintain an affinity for free flying dog hair because why on earth would we want a dog with a coat that does not shed?  As we both slowly build an immunity to Allegra and Claritin, we decided that having one dog that sheds uncontrollably is simply not enough.  Because of this decision, we fell victim to another obligation and that is to take in any dog that looks pathetic and sad.  By pathetic and sad I of course mean has four legs and fur.  That is how we came into possession of our new-to-us German Shorthaired Pointer, Sue. 

Whenever I meet someone new, conversation inevitably shifts towards pets so I have to give the rundown of all of my animals.  Three-legged cat?  Check.  Obnoxious, obese 75-pound mutt that in reality should weigh 50?  Affirmative.  Vicious yet more adorable than Boo Pomeranian?  Unfortunately yes.  New dog named Sue?  For some reason, at this point people feel obligated to point out to me that I have a dog named Sue, almost just like the song.  Yes, you are quite the wily fellow for I have never heard of that Johnny Cash song.  You are the very first person to say that to me, not the 35^th.  Congratulations on your originality and wit sir.  I salute you.  Now please go away and know that because of this conversation, we never were and never shall be friends.

Sue’s previous owner unfortunately passed away and the caretaker did not have room for her and brought her into my wife’s clinic to be put down.  Unacceptable.  We brought her into our home and she fit in very quickly.  That does not take much because all an animal has to do at our house to fit in is to pee on the floor a lot of times.  Mission accomplished.  I do not understand why we cannot house train an animal.  I grew up with dogs, cats, birds, and an ornery hamster named George, and not once did we have trouble house breaking any of them. 

As an aside, George bit the heck out of me one time so we had to get rid of him.  I was inconsolable but felt much better when dad told me we were taking him to his natural habitat so he would live a long and fruitful life.  We let him go in the woods next to a housing development.  Being a naïve four-year-old, I assumed this was both normal and acceptable.  Thirty years later, I think I have finally forgiven my dad for his betrayal.

I have digressed as usual but yes, Sue pees a lot.  She is 100% hunting dog and I assume she lived most of her adult life in an outdoor kennel and had no need for house training.  I do not hunt.  Not because I have any moral objection but more because loud noises scare me and I tend to cry when things die, real or imaginary.  I am not sure how Sue will adjust to being fed dog chewies and Doritos all the time but hopefully life will not be too terribly painful for her.  The few times she does pee outside, the grass dies a slow and painful death.  Her tinkle is just like the acid blood of the Aliens from the movie franchise.  Part of me is bothered by this while another part of me thinks this is incredibly awesome.  None of the other animals’ number ones do that so Sue is special.  She also has an affinity for cat scat.  This grosses me out beyond belief but I have finally accepted it since its just less waste for me to clean up.

I think Sue is going to fit in just fine at our little abode.  Granted we will have to replace every single piece of flooring in our house if we ever decide to move but that is just something that we will have to live with.  These animals make us pretty happy, floating hair, tee tee and all.