|On the way to the vet.|
Today is Millie’s big day.
Spaying, fixing her umbilical hernia and pulling a couple of baby teeth.
I am waiting anxiously by the phone for an update and then will pick her up around 4:30 p.m.
(How in the world am I going to keep Ferg and Millie from wrestling post-surgery? Oy. Poor Millie Lou will get lots of crate time, I think.)
When we walked into the vet, the same vet who yelled at me about adopting an American dog instead of a Mexican dog, petted her and gave her the once over and said, “Oh, you got a sweetie.”
Then we played, “Well, what do you think she is?”
His guesses: Some pekinese, some lhasa apso. I said we thought Shih tzu, too and he agreed. Then he said, “Well, it might just be easier for me to tell you what she isn’t.”
Tee hee. She isn’t a golden retriever or a boxer. True that.
She has a little head and a long body. Silky hair. She’s black all over, except for a little bit of brown on her face and grey on her back-end. She weighs about 12 pounds and is 11-months-ish.
She’s CUTE as a BUTTON and she loves to cuddle. And I swear she’s thankful to be in our house. You can just tell.
And she flies. She literally jumps from our bed to a chair in our room that is four feet away from our bed.
LOVE her. You can’t buy that kind of enthusiasm.
UPDATE – 2:38 p.m. – Millie is totally fine. I’ll pick her up at 4:30.