Sweet Pea

Meet Sweet Pea. I adopted her on Sunday the 11^th of June from a shelter in Argentona. Argentona is over 100 kilometers away, about one and a half hours driving and not far from Barcelona. I had never been there. It turned out that my GPS had never been there either. But I found the town in spite of the GPS, pulled up to the cemetery (which I figured, when they asked where are you, would be a better landmark than saying “I have no idea.” The distance and the GPS were not the only difficulties, but where there’s a will, there’s a way.

Of course I didn’t know her at that first meeting but the adoption papers required a name for the chip. Since she was tiny and seemed a sweet soul, I called her Sweet Pea. Catalans can’t seem to say Sweet Pea any more than they could say Cupcake and any more than I can say ocells.

They told me at the shelter she was ten. When I signed the adoption papers they didn’t charge me an adoption fee because she’s a senior. When I took her to my vet two days later he said she was at least 16. He thought they should have paid me to take her.

Sweet Pea has an enlarged heart three times normal size. Her back legs are crooked and she walks funny probably because of a fall many years ago that wasn’t taken care of. She has no teeth and no upper or lower jaw bone probably because of some long ago infection. And because she has no jaw bones, her tongue is usually hanging out. But other than that, she’s in great shape and she’s awfully cute!

I don’t mind her age. Her photo told me she was obviously a senior and clearly not a viable candidate to survive for long in a cage at a shelter. I was lonely after losing Cupcake in early May, and she needed to be rescued. This is what I call win-win.

She was sweet and quiet from the beginning, and little by little her personality has begun to come through and she has blossomed. She has more energy than at first and can go on longer walks. She seemed not to ever have gone up or down staircases before. She would go down slowly, tentatively, and when we came home I would carry her back up, afraid that, in this heat, the effort would be bad for her heart. Two days ago, without thinking, I did the automatic movement I used to do with Cupcake, I took off her leash at the bottom of the stairs. She just flew up all three flights. When it’s time to go out, she becomes rambunctious and starts to dance around like a crazy person, jumps on me, wags her tail so hard I’m afraid it will fly off or knock her over. She had been at the shelter for over a month. I think she has recovered from her trauma.

Yesterday I ran into an acquaintance at the fruit and veg shop. I met her through her husband who was one of the dog park people. I had told them the last time I ran into them that Cupcake had died. Yesterday I told her that I had adopted another dog – a sixteen-year-old Chihuahua. Sixteen! she said. But she won’t last long. As if she were a used car. Some people just don’t get it. They may have a dog, but they are not dog-lovers.

Since she came, we haven't done much becausse of the heat. I don’t know if she has weeks, months, or years ahead of her. But whatever time we have together, we will make the most of it and be grateful.