So, I’m a bad pet mom. I forgot the birthday of my greyhound, Laura. On February 4, she turned 6. That’s like 30-40 something in people years.
It’s been a crazy run with her. We adopted Laura at almost three on December 27, 2008. She is my first dog. I only relented because my husband really wanted a dog.
I liked them well enough but wasn’t entirely sold on becoming a dog mom. Neither was the cat, but we went ahead and adopted her from Maine Greyhound Placement Service in Augusta. It is, how they say, fate.
If you don’t believe in pet insurance, please talk with me. In less than a year, we were on an almost first-name basis with the emergency vet. First, Laura ate a pan of brownies. Then, birdseed. No visit to the vet was needed that time.
Then, the coup de grace, three loaves of rising bread dough. Shortly after the bread dough, another dog bit her. Then, thankfully, a mouthful of quills from a dead porcupine sent us to the regular vet. I say “thankfully” because no emergency fee was associated with that visit.
Needless to say, it’s been a crazy ride.
Despite the thousands of dollars that we spent on her, the joy outweighs the pain. It’s strange when she sleeps over at Green Acres while we travel. She’s a part of our lives. We’ll never give up.
So, sorry, sweetie. Happy 6th birthday. Here’s looking at another 10 years or more of your crazy antics!