Ok, so maybe you ARE the boss of me.

216773_1031748287320_3793_nThis little girl came into our life by “accident” ten years ago. Sweet little Sadie. We were NOT going to get a dog. We were “just going to look” at the litter of 11 golden retriever puppies. Just looking. Yes, we took both kids with us, but we were NOT leaving with a dog.

Despite a 40 minute drive of reinforcements, “we are NOT getting a dog, we are just looking.” Forget the insistence that we aren’t ready, don’t have, can’t, shouldn’t. I’m telling you, even a heart like a ten pound hammer would find a litter of brown-eyed-puppy-breathed-yipping-jumping golden retriever puppies to be kryptonite. My steely position lasted strong….for about 2.7 seconds. The kids took about 4 seconds to find THE one. We left with a puppy and my husband was grinning ear to ear. He knew it all along.

We worked hard to train her, make sure she knew she wasn’t the boss and she caught on. A golden always wants to please so they are very trainable and will do just about anything that makes their owner happy. They are genetically designed as professional beggars as well and will eat nearly anything and at any time. Rocks, dirt clods, grass…you name it, they eat it.

A couple of months ago she was diagnosed with lymphoma in both kidneys and given about 6 to 8 weeks to live. We were offered the option to do chemotherapy, a treatment that lasts about 5 months, costs nearly $10,000 and results in an average of 4 to 5 months longer to live. Does that weird math escape any of you? We thought about it and decided to let her live out her days happy and stress free (well as stress free as possible since we brought ANOTHER NEW PUPPY home in this time frame). Since lymphoma is not thought to be particularly painful, she seems to do ok. Feels better some days than others, but still a sweet, sweet girl.

Despite the terrible timing of a puppy added to the mix (don’t judge – have you seen a WESTIE litter…kryptonite 2), Sadie is doing ok, but she has caught on to the situation. She knows. She gets scraps more often, more treats, extra loving. If told no she gives us that, “you can’t say no to a dog with cancer” look. She’s been golden mind melding us since that spring day ten years ago, but is pouring it on with the “I have cancer” look. No, I’m not making it up. But I have firmly come to the conclusion that our pets let us live here because we feed them.

We are so not the boss of us.



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