Today's probably not Celeste's best day. She woke us up at 5 am this morning. Grrrr...I didn't want to play. So we went back to bed for an hour. Then she realized that she wasn't offered any food - at all. Hmmm...something's weird...she's usually offered food and she always exercises her pleasure at turning her nose up at it, until it becomes obvious that our breakfast is not going to be hers, and only then will she eat her dog food. But this morning I didn't offer her anything. I just let her play and then when it was time to go to work, she went back into her crate. She looked at me quizzically, and I went on to work.
When I returned from my morning class, at 9:30, I changed my clothes and we both bounced out the door. Off we went...to the veterinarian's office. She usually bounds into the office and leaps on whoever's closest, but today, she knew something was up. The office smelled different, looked different, the people were masked and gloved and gowned. Here came a technician she didn't know. He had a syringe in his hand and he gave her the shot like he was shooting a dart gun - from a distance and with a lot of force. Obviously, he was scared of her. She freaked out, but the woman who is a technician there took charge of Celeste and let me know I could pick her up at 6 pm this evening. That was the first time that Celeste wasn't just having a heyday with the people in the office, and basking in their adoration and attention. She actually wanted to go home with me. I was amazed. Don't worry Celeste. I'll be back this evening to take you home.
Señorita Celeste will always and forever be a señorita after today. No children, no lovers, no more hoards of street dogs peeing on the front door, no more security guys washing the door with vinegar to get rid of the urine odor of prospective male suitors who come to call. She will be forever sweet and innocent.
O nearly cried when I told him that today was Celeste's little surgery. We'll never have Siberian grandchildren...