Frances Gortagh Takes Up Permanent Residence

I haven't updated you on all of my foster dogs because some people say things like, "I saw that it was another dog post so I didn't read it." They have bad manners. I never say, "I saw it was another fake self-aggrandizing post about how perfect your life is so I didn't read it." I keep it to myself. DO NOT TEST MY POLITENESS.

Let me get you up to speed. Remember Dodger who loved only me?
I'm sorry to say he was twice adopted, twice returned, taken to the pound and put to sleep. Dodger had been abused and bit kids. I'm telling you--this dog fostering is not for the faint of heart. In Dodger's case I keep wondering if I could have done more. . . If I could have gotten him out. I don't know. If I just. . . I could have saved him. I didn't do enough. This rawhide chew here. . .

And then there was a mini schnauzer named Fritz. Handsome and well behaved, Fritz had but one tragic flaw: dark red genitals. Fritz, I'm just not that into you. But some old lady was! And they are living happily ever after.

Then we took on one of Satan's minions--a de-barked stray dachshund with a litter of three puppies. We named her Sizzles. After 6 weeks she and her puppies had grown on us--as had the rotten abscesses in her stinky mouth. She was off to the vet as soon as her puppies could be weaned. You know how hard it is for single moms to get good health care--especially dental. She'll be a fine dog for someone soon. And so will her puppies. Interested?

Then I found this dog that matched my bedding so I'm going to keep her.
You knew I'd keep one eventually. Meet Frances Gortagh, a 3 month old liver spotted English Springer Spaniel. Do you love? We do. Her previous owner found out he couldn't have dogs at his cabin. He sold her once, and gave her away once. Each time she was returned because she became so depressed and sad that she wouldn't eat. He was looking for a home where Frances would thrive. So far so good.

I was pretty surprised by the outpouring of love, excitement, good will, and enthusiasm from my kids and from Christian. I mean, you'd think the dog thing would be pretty old by now, right? They all said, "We actually get to keep her?" Parenting tip: Give, take away, give, take away, give, take away, give, take away then give for keeps and make them clean up after it. It's a proven formula for success.

What you might not know is that I had a wonderful black English Springer Spaniel named Lou when Christian and I were married. She came to me the usual way--across country in an airplane. We doted on her for the first four wonderful [childless] years of our marriage. Then we had kids and doted on her only a little less. Her death 8 years ago effected us profoundly and can be summarized thus: sudden, mysterious, exsanguination, the HORRORS.

It was always my wish to one day get a brown Lou. Frances reminds us of Lou in every way. It's uncanny. Christian has loved and wanted to keep almost every dog we've fostered. He even grew fond of the witless Sizzles. So now we have Frances Gortagh.
And just like that I am one Australian Shepherd away from being Dooce. (And a few thousand F words.) (And an apostasy.) (And a million-dollar blog. Whoopsie--Joke's on me. )