I've had many dogs in my lifetime, all female. My parents have always gotten them spayed, so I've never had to deal with that aspect of dog ownership. Until Vista. Warning: gross factor. When Vista found me, she was in heat. No big deal, I thought. It's her time of the month, I thought. It'll pass. WRONG. Do you have any idea how long a female dog stays in heat? Here's a hint: A LONG BLOODY TIME (pun intended). So even if it wasn't something I felt rather strongly about, and even if sweet Loretta from the Humane Society hadn't called and used her mean voice to ask me whether I was planning to get her fixed, even then, I would have done it. Because not only is it a headache and a mess, I spent all my time watching her like a hawk and beating her suitors away with sticks. No manners, those boys.
And so it was that on the morning of my birthday, Vista forfeited her chance to ever know the joy that is motherhood. And I drove 60 miles round-trip through the mountains singing the Hallelujah Chorus. Life was wonderful! I was 25 and my dog was getting her uterus removed!!
That was two weeks ago. I've been pretty vigilant about keeping her stitches dry, much to her grave disappointment. Ever since she discovered that water, it is a wonderful thing, Vista has been in and out of our little creek. She adores it. I've been keeping her from the thing she loves best in all the world, and it's been HOT.
But her stitches are out now (I had to remove them myself. Me.), and after a sweltering walk into town and back I gave her the green light on the creek. This was her reaction: