Carmen has found her forever home. She’s a sweet, quiet, calm girl who is slowly discovering love and even a little foolishness. We’ve had her for eight days now. Her tail wags more, her eyes meet ours more often, and she responds to her name most of the time. When she doesn’t, it’s probably because she has better things to do than because she doesn’t remember her name.
All of our major worries were for naught. She will not be eating the cats, nor are the cats broken-hearted due to the arrival of a dog. She will not be pooping and peeing all over the house. She will not jump on us and knock us down.
Miss T, the resident supervisor and crab ass, has a new lease on life and seems to think that her world is right again with a dog in it. Billy is not as sure about that, but he is confident enough to take shortcuts by walking underneath Carmen’s body.
So far, she has only destroyed an AARP bulletin and a plastic cat ball that the cats never played with anyway. She does collect items to take to her bed, however, and these consistently include Sheila’s bedroom slippers. I was flattered the day she added my red ones to the pile. She has also rounded up Sheila’s book, a wet washcloth, and all the dog toys in the toy basket to carry to one of her two beds. Nothing chewed on so far except the aforementioned AARP bulletin and cat toy.
Carmen’s new name (her racing name was “Where’s Rawbone”--yech) does not come from Bizet’s opera but was the name of Sheila’s late and beloved older sister. It fits the sleek, exotic looking girl that she is. However, I have made up a little song for her (all of The Pets always have a little song just for them), sung to the tune of “March of the Toreadors” in Carmen:
I am a hound, a sweet greyhound/My name is Carmen and I’ll be around/I’m long and lean/just like a queen/My name is Carmen and I’ll be around!