the dog column

Quite a few years ago, about ten or so, we took care of an American citizen whose husband was working at the time in an American company which, due to expansion, established a subsidiary in Torreón. And the gentleman and lady came to live here, who would have been around 50 years old, I guess.

Her older children, about 25 years old, according to what the North American woman told me, stayed to settle in the United States, bringing only their pet as a companion, a mature lap dog about 8 or 9 years old. This dog, like many today, had various characteristics typical of his breed, some others typical of his being and others taught over the years by his owners, that is, he was so smart that he only needed to speak.

Month after month, the North American woman brought us Scotty (that’s her name) for a routine check-up, to get him vaccinated or whatever else was available.

After about 6 months of being with Scoty and her owner, who was not separated from her puppy day and night, the lady told us very worried that it was possible that she would have to travel to the country due to force majeure and he believed that his stay in his home country would be short, maybe two or three days, four at most. “And I can’t take Scotty with us because I can’t take care of him on the days he’s in the States, and I also don’t have anyone to leave him here safely.

After listening to a concerned woman, I told her to leave her puppy with us in “retirement”, that we had that service and that we were going to take care of her, feed him and watch Scoty. She replied “but she’s going to miss us”.

“Without a doubt,” I replied, but he will get used to it after giving him good treatment, besides giving him food, the dog trusts the person who feeds him, even more so if he does it by talking to him. he in a passionate way. “And may I bring you your little house and your plate of water and food?” the lady told us. “Sure,” we told him, “bring him whatever he wants.”

Two days later, the lady finally brought her poodle. And he brought us the whole traveling “kit,” that is, the bed, the blanket, American food, his toys, and his food reward to be given to him at night, as, according to the lady, Scoty loved to eat them. After many kisses and hugs, with tears in his eyes, he finally said goodbye.

The lady called us everyday to see how her puppy was doing: “Yesterday was the first day he didn’t eat,” I told her, “but that’s normal, often dogs don’t eat the first day, but today think if you’re going to to eat.”

On the third day, he called again to ask about his puppy and to say that his stay, to his dismay, was going to take a few more days, but he didn’t know how many. I said to him, “Look, Scotty is already eating, but not much and I notice that he is sad, although we have already checked him and his vital signs are normal.” “Oh, doctor, I beg you a lot, because this puppy is my joy, please don’t let anything happen to him.” The days went by and the puppy ate a little better, but he was still sad, although I would rather define it as “depressed”.

On the tenth day of her boarding school, the lady asked us on the phone about her spoiled puppy. “He’s not bad,” they told him, “we’ve done blood tests and everything’s normal, and even though he’s eating regularly, he’s not at all well.”

The woman said to me, “I still don’t know when I’ll be back and I’m very sad, and for that reason I’ve already had a few shots of whiskey.” Because I forgot to say that the lady likes to have a few shots of whiskey a day. As I hung up the phone after finishing the call, my mind wandered and I thought of offering him a glass of Scoty whiskey I went home to retrieve a bottle I had saved.

When we returned with the Scotsman, we placed a small glass of whiskey on a dry and clean plate, immediately afterwards the puppy drank it with singular joy, and from then on the dog did the same as always.

The lady took another 20 days to come back, when she came back to Torreón, the first thing she did was to pick up her pampered friend, who was in perfect health, especially when she saw her owner, friend and lifelong companion.

“Thank you”, – he told us – “for taking care of Scoty and giving him to me very well. Now tell me what is the pension service”, for which he received a certain amount, this in addition to extra expenses, as a bottle of Scoty’s whiskey ran out almost. The lady laughed heartily and happily accepted the extra cost, she told us with a feigned sadness, which I thought was rather mischievous.

“It’s just that I forgot to tell you that after I’ve had a shot of whiskey I’ll be pouring Scoty too.”

Since then I have looked at the characteristics of each dog and I believe that dogs resemble their owners in many ways.

And now to finish with a bit of philosophy: MONEY IS NOT HAPPINESS… BUT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE.

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