I’m sitting here with my laptop actually on my lap while Wally sleeps on the ottoman. Thoughtful of him to let me have some of it, don’t you think? Anyway, you probably notice his belly band (aka diaper). Not exactly stylish but Amazon lost my order of fashionable diapers for him and Taffy, my other pup who also struggles with the concept of peeing outside.Having said that, I do have 2 other pups who recognized long ago that canines peeing in the garden is the preferable urinary etiquette expected by dog guardians who enjoy their home being pee-free. Two out of 4. Humm. Where did I go wrong?
Last week you met Taffy, the latest member of my furry family. So now I’d like to tell you what life has been like lately. Now don’t get me wrong; what I’m about to say doesn’t imply I regret my decision to adopt that little monkey. She is both a treasure and a challenge.
Let’s start with the challenging part, shall we? This will give you an idea as to how I spend a good portion of my time at home with Taffy. Picture the two of us standing in the rain in the backyard. It’s 7 a.m. and Taffy is staring up at me, quizzically, while I repeatedly say, “Go potty, Taffy. Go potty.” That scenario is quickly followed by more expressions of total confusion.
I’m thrilled to report that we’re making progress. And by WE I mean my two problem children, Skip and Wally. In case you haven’t met them, I’ll introduce you…
I adopted Skip 5 years ago after we crossed paths at Marin Humane. Late one night I was bringing in feral cats I’d just trapped for sterilization at the same moment a volunteer carried in Skip from a rescue run in middle California. It was love at first sight — I knew in that instant I had to make him part of my furry family.
Wally is my latest addition, added last August to round out my other 7 adopted rescues (3 mutts and 4 felines). What can I say? Again, love at first sight. While at Berkeley Humane picking up a food donation for Marin Friends of Ferals, I saw a volunteer walking Wally.
Walking is too benign a description for Wally’s gait. More like he skips with determination and utter joy. One couldn’t help but notice him leading the volunteer, his little body pulling the poor guy down the sidewalk. Give that volunteer a skateboard and he’d have had the ride of his life.