So, I’m a bad pet mom.
I forgot the birthday of my greyhound, Laura.
On February 4, she turned 6 years old. That’s like being a 30-40 something in people years.
It’s been a crazy run with her. We adopted Laura when she was almost three (December 27, 2008). She is my first dog and I only relented because my husband REALLY wanted a dog. I liked them well enough, but I wasn’t entirely sold on becoming a dog mom.
Neither was the cat.
But we went ahead and adopted her from Maine Greyhound Placement Service in Augusta and it is, how they say, fate.
If you don’t believe in pet insurance, please talk with me. In less than a year, we were on an almost first-name basis with the emergency vet.
That’s because first Laura ate a pan of brownies. Then it was birdseed (no visit to the vet needed). Then it was the coup de grace: three loaves of rising bread dough.
Shortly after the bread dough she was bit by another dog.
And then it was her mouthful of porcupine quills from a dead porcupine that sent us (thankfully) to the regular vet. I say “thankfully” because there was no emergency fee associated with that visit.
Needless to say, it’s been a crazy ride.
But despite the thousands of dollars we’ve spent on her, the joy outweighs the pain. It’s strange when she has sleepovers at Green Acres and we travel. She’s a part of our lives that we’ll never give up.
So, sorry sweetie. Happy 6th birthday.
And here’s looking at another 10 years (or more!) of your crazy antics!