Miss Daisy is my dog.
A female boxer.
If you know anything about dog breeds then you know I am the owner of a neurotic, alpha female, major fart smelling, I-can-jump-higher-than-your-best-frisbee, drooling dirt dog.
And they resent, with every frantic bone in their body, when you leave them.
Like her boxer brethren, she only likes other boxers and thinks she's a person and other dogs can just go to hell with a cat in their pants.
But that isn't what I want to write about here. What I want to tell you about is the driving Miss Daisy to the kennel.
Last time she was in a kennel in Nashville she growled at everybody and if she could have, would have flung poop at them also. This place was like the Dog Nikko hotel, with TVs and cushy beds and chairs, and she still wasn't happy. It was below her like a mixed breed with a bad collar from Cleveland.
Before we left for our trip, I took her to Camp Arf Arf...go ahead laugh , I did. She had to have a "pre-board" exam before they would accept her.
Accept her? Geez, what sorority will she have to pledge?
I wasn't even a mile down the road after dropping her off before I got the call.
"Is this Ms.Doe, Daisy's owner?"
"Yes"
"You need to come get her right away. She has failed our pre-board exam."
"Failed? What did she do?"
"She growled and lunged at one of our attendants, and that's just unacceptable".
By the way, an attendant at Camp Arf Arf is a teenager who won't stop eating their Wendy's double stack attack long enough to wait on you, and shakes your hand with an unimaginable amount of grease on their hands, which they then transfer to the computer while they load your name, completely misspelled into the database.
"I'll be right back, so sorry about this..."
I walk back into the building and I swear Daisy is smiling at me , triumphant in her rejection....as we walked past the attendant she reportedly lunged at, she jumps up and licks her on the face as if to say "Sorry honey, had to do it to spring from this joint, nothing personal, you're just a pawn in the chessboard of my master manipulation game."
If I didn't know better, it looked like she winked at her when I put her collar on and dragged her short tailed butt out of there.
The drive home was silent, but deadly if you know about boxer gas.
I spent the next few days researching kennels who deal with female aggressors ( yep, I found a name to tag on this bitch)...and there it was, the Valhalla of weary dominated dog owners, the Utopia of out of control dog lovers, the Chuckie Cheese of childless couples, if not for their pets....Misty Pines Dog Park and Kennels...I kid you not, Misty Pines is the real name.
They train service and hunting dogs there, they have a dog park, dog pond, nature trails, kennels, doggie day care, and most of all they are dog trainers on staff who know how to handle alpha- you're-not-the-boss-of-me-female dogs...Animal Friends, the local no kill shelter sends them their abused dogs for re-hab...
Daisy my dear, you have met your match.
I took her out there 4 times to acclimate her, we walked the trails, she did day care...by the way she stood at the gate of the dog pen for 2 hours waiting for me to come back...refusing to mingle with the low life dogs who insist on smelling her butt.
Although I think she did have a short conversation with a couple of pugs about their shared breathing problems.
She seemed to be okay, so I officially boarded her for a week so we could go away....
By day 3 , I get the call, Daisy is on a hunger strike.
Good move on the chessboard, you brown eyed nut case.
By day 4 , they are feeding her canned dog food and rice cakes...bitch.
As you can suspect, we leave a day early so we can retrieve her.As I pick her up, I get the progress report..."Daisy now has diarrhea from the canned food, better not leave her alone much for the next couple of days".
So now, we have to stay by her side rather than deal with cleaning up liquid waste on the new rugs, and we need to feed her rice and burger....ever so gently.
As I was feeding Daisy her first of many specially prepared meals of rice and burger, resigned to the fact that I need to stay home on this beautiful summer day, rather than hit the links, I could swear I heard her whisper "Checkmate"...
...
