Hope Springs Eternal

Today life took an interesting turn for Lilac, our old lady greyhound, and Bunny, the puppy. During the week, my mornings at home are usually filled with Bunny cuddling up as close to me as she can possibly get on the couch. If we were any closer most mornings, she would be inside my skin. I believe she keeps hoping that she can will me to stay at home with her. That, and of course, hope always springs eternal that I will feel generous and share some of my breakfast with her.

However, a surprise was in for her today. I got ready to leave, but instead of grabbing my things for work, I grabbed my purse and the bag we take with us when the dogs go with us. I picked up a leash, and Bunny couldn't get to the back door fast enough. Hawk and Blueberry, our other greyhounds, also beat a path to the back door. I called to Lilac, and she opened an eye from the cushy dog bed at me, then flopped her ear back to the bed. So, out the door I went with Bunny while hubby held on to the other two who were not going. Then he got Lilac and convinced her to come out with him.

Lilac does not like to ride in any moving vehicle. It doesn't impress her at all, and at thirteen years old, she is most content to sleep in a sunny spot in the house. She was a good sport, however, and went to lay on the back seat, no doubt praying to the canine gods that she would survive whatever crazy ordeal we were putting her through this time.

Bunny, on the other hand, loves to go for rides. Her little nose is always pressed to a window, watching the world go by. Each and every thing is still new and exciting to her. She associates going for rides with drive thrus, where people fawn over her, trips to the dog bakery, where people fawn over her, visits to the nursing home, where people fawn over her, travels to dog obedience, where people fawn over her, and going other places where people fawn over her in general. Perhaps you see a trend.

In the back of the van, Bunny was her enthusiastic little self. Lilac looked at her the way you look at a person who runs off to jump into the icy waters of New Year's Day as a Polar Bear. I think she even shook her head in mild disgust. I can imagine the conversation between them.

Bunny: This is so exciting! It's gonna be great! I wonder how many people will want to pet me!

Lilac: It's not going to be what you think it is, kid.

Bunny: I hope there are people there! They'll want to pet me!

Lilac: There will be people there, and trust me, you don't want any part of it.

Bunny: I'll bet they think I'm cute! Everybody will want to pet me!

Lilac: I'm getting car sick. Think what you want, just be quiet.

When we arrive, Lilac's suspicions are confirmed. This is nothing she wants any part of. She squats in the grass as we head inside, doing everything she can to delay us from getting inside. Bunny, of course, is at the end of her leash, waiting for the big adventure. As we walk in the door, I see her little nose start twitching. Most likely she's trying to figure out why she can't smell the people who are no doubt waiting inside somewhere to pet her over the strong smell of antiseptic. Lilac tries putting the brakes on at the door, but Bunny's and my forward momentum pulls her over the threshold and we're inside.

Fortunately, we are the first appointment of the morning, so we don't have to wait in the lobby. We head straight for the scales. Dutifully, Bunny hops up on the scale, wagging her tail in anticipation of the attention she's about to recieve. Lilac begrudgingly stands there after I lift her up so all four feet are on the scale. Then we head for the exam room.

Bunny checks every nook and cranny, no doubt waiting for the fanfare that is about to begin at her arrival. Lilac tries to climb in my lap, completing her entire spring shed there in the exam room. She blows enough hair off her body to make a carpet for our entire upstairs level in our house.

A few minutes later, the vet comes in to get Bunny first. She fusses over her unusual coloring, and Bunny wags her tail like a little fan, doing the greyhound version of the Grace Kelly wave. Finally, the people have noticed her. Lilac tries to hide under my chair as we wait. Her plans are foiled, however, as they return Bunny, whose tail is no longer wagging until she sees me. Lilac is reluctantly led from the room, most likely hoping that they are not cutting her toenails this time.

Five minutes later, it's over, and I collect our things, along with both dogs and go out to pay. We get back in the van. Lilac can't get in fast enough. Bunny is stunned, there weren't people there to fuss over her after all.

After lunch, I decide to run out for lunch. I take the dogs out first, and then decide I'll take them along for the ride, since Blueberry and Hawk are sulking over being left behind before. I open the door to the van, and help Hawk get his back feet up in there. Blueberry leaps in right behind him. Bunny waits for her turn, then leaps like a dainty gazelle into the back as well. I turn to look, and Lilac has departed, to stand at the back door, waiting to go inside. No amount of convincing will get her back to the van, so I open the door and let her go inside. She's happy as a clam.

We pull out and head off to go pick up my lunch. It seems another conversation is going on in the back.

Blueberry: Bunny, stay on your side of the seat! I need my space.

Hawk: Don't step on me, I'm an old man!

Bunny: Where are we going? I bet they're all waiting to pet me!

Ahhh, hope springs eternal!