Living with a Vet 5

Pink Think: “You enter into a certain amount of madness when you marry a person with pets.” – Nora Ephron

Today, I am writing about occupational hazards. Of my husband’s job, that is. He’s a veterinarian.

There have been many times when he’s called me from work and said, “There’s a dog here who needs a home…” And sometimes, if he catches me in a good mood, I’ve been known to say yes (but only to two dogs max at a time as a rule).

Exhibit number one: Emmie

Emmie was a beagle puppy who had to have surgery her owners could not afford. (Not that we could when we had to make two trips to Colorado State University, but at least it was heavily discounted because Drew is an alum). She is my first beagle, my husband’s third, and she has forever gotten me hooked on beagles. She is sweet and small and very polite when she begs for scraps. I call this her “chicken leg” pose.

Exhibit number two: Little Ann

Little Ann is a three-legged redbone coonhound who entered our lives because her owner, upon learning that she had to have a leg amputated (and wouldn’t make a good hunting dawg), was just going to shoot her. My oldest daughter Sierra, who loves the book “Where the Red Fern Grows” (where Little Ann gets her name from) really, really lobbied for her. When Drew told her that we would get to keep her, she said she “exploded” with happiness. She is a sweet dog but a counter-surfer extraordinaire. I can’t imagine how much more havoc she would cause if she had all four legs. She doesn’t understand the word “no” but she gives nice “hugs”.

My husband says he wants a bloodhound next. Can you tell that he has this fetish for big-eared hounds? If you hear of one that is the size of a beagle when full-grown, let me know.

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