The story of Max the dog...
By Cindyhuber on December 06, 2012
My dog needs a serious bath...and there is no one in the house that is going to do it...except me...Nine years ago we got a bichon-frise for my daughter...bichon-frise is a french term which transulated means "you paid too much for this dog." The dog was from Iowa, and it was over a year old so we got a significant deal on it...the only thing the owner said of any note was "it really likes males..." We should've listened. We brought this dog named "Boz" home, changed his name to Max, and gave him to my daughter. He immediately turned up his little french nose at her and turned his attentions to my husband--who of course, has never cared for dogs--and Max has loved him ever since, which is probably a good thing, because twice my husband has saved his life...
It's a short story actually, Max got real sick, I took him to the vet, and for a while it looked like another Huber pet was on his way to pet heaven...What was the problem? We're still not real sure but it's some kind of parasite whose name I forgot that apparently the dog picked up from some other dog and that's about all I know except...if your dog ever gets real sick and you rush him to the vet and the bill comes to 471 bucks...that's the one!
Max got seriously ill again earlier this year, but this time, there was no extra money to save him...except...well, we had just gotten our tax return...my husband had earmarked it for our bathroom fund (our 1937 enamel tub is leaking and we need a new tub)...It went something like this, the dog got sick on Monday, the tax money showed up on Tuesday...and Tuesday night there was a serious discussion...
Me: The vet says the dog needs 10 teeth pulled, and he has heart problems, but he thinks he can save him for 700 bucks...
Husband: What can he do with 200?
Me: We can get a group cremation and possibly a nice urn...
Husband: What does the urn look like?
The dog got his teeth pulled, we didn't get the new tub, and tonight, because it's been a while since I could afford to take Max to the groomer...when he did his doggie duty he got it stuck all over his furry butt...and there's no one else in the house that's going to do it...when I came back after walking the dog and yelled, "can somebody help me, he's got pooo..." the house went strangely quiet...so it's me and the dog, in the leaky tub, and the dog is squealing and shaking water all over me...and I'm swearing...when suddenly my husband showed up at the door with a glass of wine...
Me: For me?
Husband: No, for the dog...where's your Xanax?
Me: Why, do you think I need it?
Husband: No, everyone in the house that can hear you needs it...
Well, it's an hour later, the dog was wrapped up in a towel, but decided he liked my coat better, dragged it off the couch, and is now rolled up in it...If that makes him feel better that's OK...I'm just gonna smell like wet dog for the next few days...let no one say my dog doesn't know how to get even...damn french!
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