Bite Me, Lady

Both dogs did well yesterday. Leo once again got a clean bill of health and remains in remission. Manny came with us, of course, but this time he waited until we went back outside to poop. All in all a successful visit.

The experience was marred only by the woman who came in with her large dog while we were checking in. As dogs do, Leo and the new arrival barked at each other and strained against their respective leashes for a meet and greet. I didn't pay much attention, other than grabbing onto the leash tightly so Leo wouldn't drag me across the floor.

So there we were, just hanging out, minding our own business and strolling aimlessly around the lobby awaiting the arrival of an oncology nurse (who would, naturally, send Leo into an orgasmic frenzy), and this woman with the big dog looked at me and said "Stay away, please. Your dog bit my dog." Leo? Was she kidding me? Like any obsessive parent, I was certain that my dog could not possibly have been the aggressor. At best, there had been mutual nips; at worst, her bratty beast had been unduly provocative, and maybe Leo's nip was appropriately emphatic. He does it to Manny every once in a while, with good reason.

The woman at the reception desk offered me a sympathetic eye roll, which at least made me feel like I wasn't being one of those crazy moms incapable of any semblance of objectivity about her precious children. I didn't bother responding to the crazy woman who had behaved as if I had bitten her, which, I would agree, might have justified her nasty response. I congratulated myself on my maturity -- although I must admit my aimless stroll around the lobby kind of shrunk into a smaller radius as Leo and Manny and I ambled back and forth right in front of the two bitches. I wanted to stick out my tongue, but that would have been wrong.

I'm over it, I guess, and I don't think Leo even heard the incident (there are so many delicious smells in that lobby it's almost impossible to focus on anything else). Lord knows he has enough bullshit going on in his life; the last thing poor Leo needs is to be falsely accused of violence.

But the important thing is Leo is still cancer free, and enjoying life. Spring is struggling to arrive, and Leo has already found a few tennis balls that had been buried under snow for months. His tail -- the great barometer of happiness -- stands tall and wags regularly, and he is nowhere near ready to give up his midnight visits to the backyard. Life is good.