Hangdog

I had Pearlie spayed this week.  She is very sad.  She also thinks she can't jump up and down off the sofa or the bed and waits for me to lift her, unless she forgets that she's supposed to be convalescing and milking it for all it's worth, then she can jump just fine.

I had wanted her to have puppies (sooo politically incorrect, I know), but I never could find a suitable mate.  Pearlie hates all other dogs anyway, so she might not have let even a very handsome guy anywhere near her.  So, she's six and half years old now and I'm tired of dealing with her moody and messy seasons.  She didn't know what was coming, but I was dreading it for her.  I was going to tell the vet as he was carrying her away, "Please take care of her because she's my baby." but I was already tearing up and I knew that if I tried to speak, I'd start crying instead. 

Ridiculous, I know.

But, she came through it OK and it's done and she's fine and I'm fine.  Too sad that there won't be any sweet, fuzzy little white balls of fluff to love, though.