All Dogs Go to Heaven

We’ve all heard pet tragedies, and the pet owners among us have tolerated heeding after heeding. So when my French faux beau decided to adopt a puppy shiba inu, I went easy on the warnings. Rather than listing the do’s and don’ts, I subtly inserted the pearls of wisdom I’ve gained from three and a half years of doggy mommyhood. My main concern was the puppy’s tendency to eat everything off the ground and everything in sight. This juvenile canine behavior provides a big problem in a city where streets are littered with chewed chicken wings, old gum and rusty nails. When Mia was a baby, I had to keep treats in my pockets during walks to deter her from eating off the ground. If her eyes were on me, she would miss last weeks pork bun smashed in the street.

Equally as important is a pet owner’s apartment. You may not have thought anything of that penny lying in the corner, but Rover will run over there and swallow it before you can say Lincoln. “Especially if you aim to leave your apartment, the floor should be spotless,” I would caution in the least bossy voice I could muster knowing full well that an apartment full of three party-loving male expats couldn’t keep a floor clean, even with a cleaning lady.

For a while there I was wrapped up in a different guy I was seeing, and the French dude was busy entertaining his French visitors. Several weeks went by before I saw him again, and upon seeing him I excitedly relayed that I would be writing about New York dogs every other week for The Vogue City. As if he anticipated my next question, a worrisome looked crossed his face. “Oh, and speaking of dog’s, how’s the puppy?” I asked.

“Something very bad has happened. I didn’t want to have to tell you now like this,” he replied. “The puppy died.”

“Wait what?” I asked, certain I had misheard him. The look on his face confirmed his former statement as true, and I took his hand, encouraging him to tell the story.

“I came home very late one day, and in the morning when I came out, the puppy had died.”

“How?”

“He suffocated in a bag of chips,” he said solemnly.

OMG Did he just say what I think he said? He did. He explained that the apartment was messy and a bag of chips was left out on the ground. The puppy went to eat it and somehow crawled into the lick the bag, couldn’t get out and suffocated. When they found him in the morning, his body was lying face first in a bag of chips. My heeding ran through my mind, but I bit my tongue. It was an accident, but could have been prevented.

So this puppy season, and yes, spring is puppy season, listen to those words of wisdom. And for real, keep your floors clean.

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Posted by Emma Dinzebach at 12:00 AM
bargain news , DOGGIE |