The Scourge of Milpitas

I need to tell my boyfriend, the heroic fire captain, to stop buying me gifts to celebrate and mark my continued recovery from cancer.  The last gift he gave me to celebrate was Sophia Eleanora, the Staffordshire terrier puppy who has made it her personal mission to lay siege to my entire life.

I had to call the nice trainer over at the Milpitas PetSmart and leave her an embarrassed message explaining about Sophie missing so much class.  I didn’t want her to think Sophie was being truant or cutting class, because Sophie knows that looks will fade but a good education lasts a lifetime.  Anyway, it’s just that given that all the other students are BOY dogs and that Sophie just became, uh, well, how does one put this delicately?  Oh, yes, a WOMAN dog. I think it wise to wait until all doggy ice cream cravings stop. 

Sophie was a bit early to blossom, and because she had a skin condition, the vet wanted to wait until it was cleared up prior to performing the completely owner-is-responsible and absolutely necessary-for-my-sanity puppy hysterectomy.  Between that and business travel, I clearly waited too long, and now it's too late; a morose Sophie is lying around, watching reruns of Big Cat Diary on the Animal Planet and getting all weepy.  She is also convinced that her collar makes her look fat.

My BFF and fellow Milpitas resident, Jill, is absolutely of no help in all this.  Her cat, Miss Katie, who has since gone to her reward, aka, that great kitty litter in the sky, once went into heat and, according to Jill, proceeded to act the feline version of Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire. Miss Katie would literally drag herself dramatically across the bathroom floor, using one paw at a time, drag, meow, drag, meow, drag, meow.  There was nothing wrong with her, of course.  But being that it was Miss Katie, whose head could spin around like she was a special effect in The Exorcist (though only when I was caring for her), the cat liked to make a point. 

I need to state here that Jill can be very competitive when it comes to whose pet is the more obnoxious.  But even I have to admit that Miss Katie was the "scourge" of Milpitas for a very long time, and this when she never left the house.  This is how effective that cat was at terrorizing an entire city.  Jill would caution you to beware of felines that peer over your shoulder when you are on the computer.  Clearly, someone is memorizing passwords and waiting until you go to sleep.

I’m really bummed about Sophie having to be on this prolonged time out, because she really needs obedience training.  She won’t do anything for me, save for sitting pretty for slices of deli meats, and, for some odd reason, she does "leave it" on command.  I think this is only because whatever I am ordering her to leave is of no interest to her in the first place. That being said, she will do ANYTHING for the crack trainer, Tanya, over at the Milpitas PetSmart.  If Tanya asked Sophie to rob a bank, I bet you Sophie would pull out a stocking cap and faster than you could say, "stick um up," she’d be trotting out of the local Citibank with a bagful of cash in her mouth, pleased as punch.  Some people just have the right touch, I suppose.

I cannot even take Sophie for walks right now, even though where I live in Milpitas, there is a nice raised bed above a creek and a lake to jog around and a flock of arrogant ducks to bark at—all the canine essentials. I cannot do that because OTHER PEOPLE, presumably my mean ole neighbors, have the nerve to walk their dogs along those same paths, too. I personally find this incredibly inconvenient.  

Plus, there is this ten-pound scruffy little mop of a thing that gets two, mind you, TWO walks every single day right by my house, and I just know that miniature delinquent has been enamored of Sophie ever since I got her.  I suspect he is the one leaving gourmet biscuits on my doorstep — the doggy equivalent of courting, I suppose.  It's lucky for Sophie’s honor that very tall fences and cement barriers buried around the perimeter (to prohibit digging, both in and out) remain tried-and-true strategies for ensuring a non-pregnant dog.  Plus, the little neighborhood horn dog, Mr. Scruffy, isn’t getting anywhere near my Sophie.  I have Animal Control on speed dial, mutt. 

So, while we BOTH rest and recover, we also wait.  I’ve gotten pretty good at that, what with blood work and mammograms and MRIs and the most scary of all — pathology reports — all sorts of medical tests that take little actual testing time but are all mostly about the waiting.  Patience, I’ve got a-plenty. We cancer survivors do patience better than anyone. 

Now excuse me while I patiently call all local grocery stores to find out who has Frosty Paws for sale.  Frosty Paws are, yes, actual doggy ice cream.  I can only take so much of the Animal Planet.

PetSmart Milpitas
175 Ranch Drive, Milpitas, CA 95035 (408) 956-1044  ‎ stores.petsmart.com