Sunday, January 30, 2011

My Inheritance

Jasper. That's my inheritance. Not the mineral, mind you. Jasper was my mother's dog. A Shitzu/Lhaso mix. A new breed of "Designer Dogs" in the works. You could call them Shitzsos, or Tzulhas...or...LhaShitz...ahhh, I think we have a winner in the "Designer Dog Name" category! LhaShitz! (Pronounced...la shits) Back to Jasper...

He's a little dog.

Who was a house dog.

Who needs to go to the groomer.

Regularly.

I fail miserably as the owner of a little dog who needs brushing, bathing, and clipping on a regular basis. My dogs have always been on the medium to large side. Outside dogs who come in the house at night and get on their beds and go back outside to their dog houses when we go to bed (unless it's willy willy code outside...then they stay in...and steal cat food...and sometimes sneak treats from the litter box...why do they do that???). I took their ease of care for granted.

Not anymore.

Now I have Jasper.

When my mom was alive, Jasper was never allowed to be with the "outside" dogs because she was afraid they'd hurt him, that he'd get in with the horses and get kicked (we have radio collars to keep them out of the horse pens), or that he'd run away and not be able to find his way back (again...radio collars to prevent this). I was fighting a losing battle with my mom about the dog. So when mom died, Jasper became mine. My brother got the car...I got Jasper. My son got the house...I got Jasper. I'm actually not annoyed that they have the car & house. I just wish one of them had taken Jasper. (The brother should have taken him...he has a nice manicured fenced yard.)

The first thing I did with my inheritance was to clip him...myself...how hard could it be??? Off with the long flowing hair that was a magnet for every sticker and burr on the property. I even bought new clippers (not the old horse clippers) for the job. He was very good while I was clipping, he actually tries very hard to be a good dog. And he loves attention. No matter how good he was, I was the inept imbecile holding the clippers. I'm sure my mom was rolling over in her grave by the time I was done. Poor little Jasper looked like the poster child for unwanted animals. Who'd a thunk it would be so hard to shave a dogs coat evenly all over???? Poor dog looked up at me with his crooked little under bite and I didn't know whether to laugh of cry. (I laughed...I can't help it...I always laugh when I do stoopid things) Words cannot describe what I did to this dog. I should have taken a picture.

Off to the groomer.

Who was able to even out Jasper's coat enough so that he didn't look quite so pitiful when she was done and who charged me extra to punish me. (She still tries to punish me regularly for bringing him in with mats in his coat, containing weeds and stickers...I'm a slow learner) After she got over her initial shock at seeing him she showed me her business brochure that had a photo on the front cover of her holding Jasper. Jasper impeccibly coiffed with long flowing hair and a little topknot on his head. The waif looking up at me with his crooked under bite now bears no resemblance to the creature on the brochure.

But he's older now...yeah, yeah, that's it...I used to look better when I was younger too. Unfortunately the older I get, the stoopider I get.

I didn't think it was sposta work like that...it's the stoopidist thing.