Pet Therapy

Ann: I was just watching reruns of “Frasier”. The dad’s dog, Eddie, had a little friend, a pigeon who would come and sit on the balcony. It made me think of you and the menagerie of animals you used to have at your house. Didn’t Kate’s dog, Misfit, have a pet?

Pam: Don’t remind me! Yeah…our dog had a pet. It was actually a compromise. Kate kept insisting Misfit was lonely and needed a ‘wife’. We weren’t about to add another dog to the household so we settled on a guinea pig.

Ann: What was his name again?

Pam: Fred. He was pretty cute and believe it or not, he really did seem to be Misfit’s pet. Imagine a little Chihuahua and a guinea pig that would play together, share their treats with each other, and even sleep together.

Ann: Only at your house!


Pam: It wasn’t always such smooth sailing though. Kate really got her feelings hurt when after Misfit had his pet guinea pig for about six months, Bret called her from the pet food aisle at the grocery store. He was standing in front of all the bags of critter food and called to ask Kate, “What kind of animal is Fred again?”

Ann: He didn’t know what kind of animal the guinea pig was?!

Pam: Yeah. Later he told me that he knew Fred was a furry rodent of some kind but when he got to the store and saw all the pictures on the bags, they all looked like Fred to him. He couldn’t remember if Fred was a guinea pig, a gerbil, a ferret, or what. Kate was pretty upset with her dad and told him, “What if someone had to ask what kind of animal you were? How would that make you feel?”

Ann: It didn’t seem to bother my college boyfriend when I’d ask him that question.

Pam: So what kind of animal was he?

Ann: I think I was dating an octopus.

Pam: At least Bret only had to endure Kate’s hurt feelings. That darn guinea pig almost caused me to lose a huge deal.

Ann: Okay…only you could blame a deal falling through on a guinea pig! I’m ready…let’s have it.


Pam: I was sitting in an important lunch meeting about to convince new clients to sign a huge contract when my cell phone vibrated and I saw it was Kate. She was about thirteen at the time and she knew not to call during the work day unless it was urgent. So I gave my apologies to the businessmen at my table, told them it was urgent, and answered the phone as discretely as I could.

Ann: I hate having to take a call at a time like that…everyone’s focused on you wondering what’s so important that you had to interrupt a meeting with a call. Did you step out?

Pam: I couldn’t. I was ‘trapped’ in the very center of one of those big round booths so I couldn’t step away without making half the table ‘scoot and stand’. I just hoped it would be a quick call and kept my voice down. Or so I thought.

Ann: It’s hard not to hear someone on the phone at the same table.

Pam: Kate sounded upset and she said she was worried about Fred. As I listened to her concerns the men at the table appeared to go on with their own conversations so I focused on Kate and on trying to figure out what the problem was.

Ann: Misfit’s pet guinea pig was sick?


Pam: In a manner of speaking…So I was listening to Kate and I was trying to understand her concerns and reassure her. Unfortunately my question to Kate came right during a lull in the conversation at the lunch table and the businessmen all heard me ask, “So how can you tell your dog’s guinea pig is depressed?” They suddenly all burst into laughter and instantly my credibility dropped through the floor.

Ann: What did you expect? In a single sentence you revealed that your daughter’s pet had a pet and that she believed it was suffering an emotional illness. I’ve known you for nearly twenty years and I’m wondering about you myself now!

Pam: She described the ‘symptoms’ and I told her I was sure that Fred was just fine.

Ann: Not so fast…maybe the fact that Bret didn’t know what kind of animal he was sent Fred into a clinical depression. Perhaps he needs therapy.

Pam: Hey, don’t give Kate any ideas!

For Dog And Country

Pam: When I was walking Misfit last night that crazy Chihuahua started straining at the leash and boldly yapping away at this huge Great Dane. Good thing that other dog was on a strong leash because he could’ve eaten Misfit in one bite.

Ann: Misfit is clueless about his size.

Pam: Or lack thereof!

Ann: Well, he’s been treated like a king by Kate his whole life. Why shouldn’t he be under the impression he rules all? He really is spoiled isn’t he?

Pam: Yeah and it drives me crazy. I would never wish him harm, but I’m telling you, I’d like to figure out a way for him to live happily ever after—elsewhere.

Ann: There’s nothing worse than a Chihuahua with a superiority complex.

Pam: You can say that again. Once I was telling Kate that Misfit doesn’t know his place. I asked her, “Does he think he’s a human being?” She gasped and told me, “He’s offended by the question!”

Ann: At least Misfit’s little and even though he’s full of himself, you can always overrule him physically. When a big dog gets that kind of attitude it can really be a problem.

Pam: That’s what happened to my mom. When I was little, my dad had a big German Shepherd named Thor. That dog was a real handful for my mom.

Ann: Is that when your family lived on the Air Force Base?

Pam: Yeah. At the time, my dad was an officer in the Strategic Air Command. When he was on “alert” he would have to live in the Alert Shack for days at a time, leaving my mom home with three kids under age six and his big German Shepherd, Thor.

Ann: I’m sure Thor was a good watchdog though, huh?

Pam: My mom didn’t think so. He gave her so much trouble that one day when my dad was away on alert, she called the military police to come “take care” of Thor.

Ann: You’re kidding! She called the MP’s on the DOG? What? Did she expect them to bring four little buckets of cement and give him a ride to the river?

Pam: Hey, you think you’re kidding but she told them to shoot him.

Ann: Would they do such a thing?

Pam: No. They knew it was an officer’s dog and that my mom was just an overwrought housewife. They figured they’d just haul him off and take care of him until my dad was back home.

Ann: So what happened when your dad came home and his dog was gone?

Pam: I’m not sure. I was pretty young. I know she wanted Thor shot and my dad wanted Thor home. But they reached a compromise of some kind.

Ann: How do you know?

Pam: Because a few weeks later we were driving home from church back through the main gate of the base. And guess who was standing at attention at the guard’s side, ears erect, and looking quite regal in his military collar and shiny silver leash?

Ann: Not Thor!

Pam: None other! The MP’s had been so taken with him while they were holding him for my dad, that they convinced my father to allow Thor to join the Military Working Dogs as a guard dog on the base.

Ann: So your dad got to see him and visit with him but your mom didn’t have to put up with him. Good solution. But didn’t you kids miss Thor at home? How did they explain it to you guys?

Pam: That was easy. They just told us that Thor had been drafted!

Ann: Well maybe that’s your solution for your spoiled Chihuahua….Doggy Boot Camp. But I guess Misfit’s too old for military service, huh?

Misfits Need Love Too

Pam: When I got my daughter that cute little puppy when she was in fourth grade I never considered the fact that I was going to be stuck taking care of an elderly Chihuahua when she went away to college.

Ann: Is Misfit giving you trouble again?

Pam: No. Not again. …still. She spoiled him absolutely rotten and then moved thirteen hundred miles away. I wish we’d included “Must allow dogs to reside in dorms” on her list of criteria for selecting a college.

Ann: She’s pretty attached to him isn’t she? It’s cute that Misfit has outfits for every occasion. He looked adorable in his tux on New Year’s Eve.

Pam: You wouldn’t think it’s so cute if you were doing that dog’s laundry. I actually have a Misfit pile when I’m folding clothes. How nuts is that?

Ann: Didn’t she used to paint his toenails too?

Pam: Don’t remind me! That started one of the biggest fights she and her brother ever had.

Ann: I don’t think I’ve heard that one.

Pam: He was giving his little sister a hard time about painting Misfit’s toenails and telling her that since Misfit’s a boy he shouldn’t have polish on his nails.

Ann: The fact that he’s a dog wasn’t relevant?

Pam: Listen, if you start getting all logical we’ll never get through this story.

Ann: You’re right. What was I thinking? Go on….

Pam: So she says, “Well it’s blue polish!” He tells her the dog is unhappy to have polish of any color on his nails. She was quite offended by the suggestion that she’d do anything to make her precious puppy unhappy.

So that night when he fell asleep she snuck into her brother’s room and painted his toenails with the same blue polish she’d used on the dog. Then she gathered all the nail polish remover and acetone from everywhere in the house and hid it. Apparently he was awake for several hours before he finally noticed.

Ann: Only your daughter!

Pam: I know. I know. So I’m in the middle of the grocery store and I get a call on my cell with each of them on an extension yelling at the top of their lungs. I hear, “I’m gonna kill her!” and “I know what Misfit likes!” and “Make her tell me where it is!” and “I think it looks good!” He’s furious, she’s laughing, and I’m clueless.

Ann: That’s what you get for leaving the house to buy food.

Pam: She takes things anyone says about Misfit very seriously. I got on her bad side myself at Christmas.

Ann: What’d you say?

Pam: She was checking out the pet store ads and saw an angel costume and asked me, “Can’t you just picture Misfit as a little angel with wings and a halo?” Being in a constant state of frustration with that dog I answered honestly, “I do…frequently.”

Ann: Ouch.

Pam: Then last week she called to tell me she joined a new club on campus that raises money for the local animal shelter and for abandoned livestock. It’s called We Love Animals. I told her I should join too because I love animals…they’re delicious. She didn’t appreciate my humor.

Ann: So why is Misfit making you nuts today?

Pam: He’s had this scaly rash on his ears that I’d been treating with hydrogen peroxide but it wasn’t improving. So I took him to the vet today and she told me he has dermatophytosis of the epidermal lining of his ears.

Ann: Sounds expensive. What is it?

Pam: It’s a common fungal infection. She said he probably picked it up outside on his feet and spread it to his ears when he was scratching.

Ann: So basically he has athlete’s ear?

Pam: Yep. The vet told me to go to the drug store and buy some generic foot fungus lotion and put it on his ears twice a day. So now I’m feeding him little treats one at a time so he’ll allow me to smear this stuff in his tender ears.

Ann: I always knew you’d be a wonderful grandma!

Pam: Oh shut up!