Happy With A Dog

 

               It was a clear sunny day in Topeka, Kansas.  I was going to get a dog at Topeka Animal

Control (TAC).  In which I chose a plump, white, terrier to adopt and take home.  The TAC wanted to 

make sure we were a match, and so they put the two of us in a room alone.

              She was quiet, but every time I touched her hind area she would cry.  I felt something was

wrong, but I figured she would calm down once I got her home.  I paid her adoption fee, and they 

explained I would have to get her from the vets in a couple of weeks.  To which they asked which vet I 

used.     I told them that I used the University Veterinarian Clinic (UVC).

              They took the white, plump, terrier to the UVC to get her ovaries removed.  I soon got a call 

from the TAC telling me, "They had to had to put the dog I chose down.  When the doctor went to go 

in and remove her ovaries he found a tumor the size of a grapefruit.  While he could have removed the 

tumor it was just cheapest to have her put to sleep.  Therefor TAC owed me a dog."

               I soon found an add for Small Caged Animal Pets.  I called them and they said it would cost 

twenty dollars.  We made a date that they could bring two dogs to me to choose from.  They told me I'd 

have to sit on the bench in front of Jackson Towers and call for the two dogs to come to me.  One of the

 dogs names was Peaches, and it did not have a chance.  The other dog was named Moma Dog, and she

 made a B-line from the car to my lap.  I didn't have a say in it she had chosen me.

             I was told that settles it she'd call TAC and tell them what happened.  She also told me I'd have 

to have her fixed, and wanted to know what vet to take her to.  I told her to take her to UVC, and she 

also found out that the TAC owned me a dog.  Moma dog would be that dog.  

                Dad and I had an argument over whether Moma Dog had red hair or not.  This was a silly 

argument, since I had already seen Moma Dog, and knew she was a red, chihuahua/terrier mix.  Yet

 Dad was certain it was more of an auburn without even seeing her.  So when we picked Moma Dog 

up (whose name I changed to Rosa) I asked him what color her hair was, and he said, "red".  

               So that was the end of the argument, and I took Rosa home where we lived happily ever after.

Paul D. Eccles