When Storms May Come. Pt. 1

Over the course of the past sixty years, four precious pooches have had the inestimable privilege of serving as my pets. (At least, I like to hope each of them have felt this way).

There was Princess, the Cocker Spaniel, and  Buddy, the Shih Tzu and Lucy the mixed breed Corgi, and finally my present pooch, Queenie, the Shih Tzu. (Again)

Funny, how every pet; dog, cat or otherwise seem to possess (or be possessed by) their own personality. I mean, you take Buddy and Queenie, both members of the Shih Tzu clan, and yet their demeanor and attributes, (or lack thereof) were/are diabolically different. 

Buddy hated to walk. Queenie 'won't go' without walking; (to Outer Mongolia). Buddy would 'hang around' in the back yard, and if we forgot her, she'd toddle up to the door and whine 'til we let her in. Queenie goes nowhere without a leash for fear she will 'go AWOL,' as she has in the past. Buddy never had an 'accident' in the house. 

Queenie is almost guaranteed to have an accident; sooner, rather than later. (Due to her age and accidents I almost transported her to the vet, and was prepared to ask him to send her to 'doggie heaven,' but she got a last minute reprieve. My wife and I have surmised that she heard us talking about her despicable bathroom habits, and her potential fate, and she quickly 'wised up' and learned where to make her 'deposits'). 

Strangely enough, Buddy, a quite expensive breed of dog, wandered up in my yard years ago, and stranger still, Queenie, the same breed, wandered up in a friend's yard, and, ultimately, we became the proud recipients of the little fur ball.

Did I mention Queenie wandered up in a storm? 

(Well, she did). 

And I can tell you, as the result of her exposure to the rain, thunder and lightning that day, she is one shell-shocked little canine. 

(To be continued)



 By William McDonald, PhD. From (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 43. Copyright pending

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