Meg here and I’m nice. I’m sorry if I don’t respond to every single email. I swear I try to. I get over 100 a day. I am nice. I swear. I was minding my own business when I got “URGENT TO BE KILLED AT 3pm” in my inbox. I didn’t want to look and then I saw that picture. Could they make it more unflattering? I travel. I travel a lot, I can’t rescue a mastiff. I could rescue that dog that looked like a noose was going to be hung around it’s neck and she had a certain sumthin’ that made my heart melt. I called the pound. For those of you that don’t know, Los Angeles has the highest “kill rate” in the country. Yes, LA County is nice enough to give dogs about 5 days in the over-crowded pounds before we “put down” AKA “kill ’em.”
I asked my roomies, who each own their own dogs that I love.
Meg: I think with a bath and some food she could be quite decent. I always take care of your dogs and I’m sad not having my own. I can take her places. She’s small.
Meg: WHAT THE HELL? THEY’RE GOING TO KILL HER!! (I may have been on my period and started to weep for the lost spirit)
Roomies: Fine, go get her.
I came home with my “Prudence” so happy. I was beaming a light that had been lost after losing my other 16-year-old dogs. She is adorable and loving and my roommates love her. I don’t want to remember life before Prudence because she brings me so much love.
Here’s where the story gets a bit murky. See the before pic? See the after? See the difference. She is smiling. I love this dog. When I got her from her death camp I was told “she is too sick to be spayed.” She was barely 7 pounds, starving and having respiratory problems. The pound continued “bring her back once you’ve made her healthy and we’ll fix her.”
Make her healthy? Boy oh boy did I. I ate hot pockets and Lean Cuisine and cooked for Prudence three times a day. She feasted on Whole Food’s Organic Beef, Poultry and top filet. I gave her snacks, I fed her antibiotics….
Then it happened…
My roommate noticed it first “Wow! She’s…Um, really, really liking your cooking.” (I’m an awful cook) This statement is suspect at just that.
Prudence was lounging on her back when I first saw it. I saw nipples that resembled udders. I quickly went to Google and looked at the signs. It seems as though Prudence is no Prude.
I scooped my virginal rescue angel up in my arms and headed to the vet. They assured me that even though she had put on 6 pounds in three weeks there could be another reason. There wasn’t.
“Prudence mother, can you come back here and look at the X-Rays?” The vet said. I felt like I was on an episode on ER.
The vet put up an X-Ray and continued “Prudence is pregnant. I see four skulls. There maybe a fifth.” I start to hyperventilate. I can’t deal with my own menstrual cycle. “How did this happen?” I ask the vet. She looks at me like I’m a moron (given.) At this point I still think we have a nine month pregnancy.
“I can tell by the way her pelvic bones have shifted you’ll be a grandmother (GRANDMOTHER) to five pups in about ten days.”
I am so mad at Prudence. Has she not seem PSA’s on safe sex? She was homeless for goodness sake! What if I, world’s biggest sap didn’t come along. The madness subsides within a minute and I just need to talk to her. I ask for time alone.
“Who is the father Prudence? I don’t have an “aunt” or a “school” to send you to. Holy Mother of God. I got a D-. A D- MINUS in biology.”
I scoop my wayward dog up and drive home. We don’t even have a “choice” No one does late term abortions on rescue cairn terrier’s with ten days left!!
I guess the father is going to be out of the picture. Prudence has no idea who he is or if he has a good job. I’m in shock. I thought I was rescuing one dog. ONE FLIPPING DOG. One that can travel. I am so screwed with the roomies right now it’s not even funny.
The roomies? AWESOME (as usual) they’re all into it. They know I didn’t plan this. Prudence? She’s around 7 months old, found on the streets traveling with a dog gang. She’s quite attractive so I get it, you do what you have to to eat. No judgement Pru. We’ve all been there at some level (maybe not yours Pru) but some level.
Me? I’ve turned into a total liar. My landlord saw Prudence waddling and I said “we think she’s part duck.” Praying he doesn’t read this post or can you spell “evicted?”
I have been watching YouTube videos on dog birthing. I’m terrified. I was told to build a “birthing den.” I was told it should be a cardboard box on it’s side. I can’t let my once homeless dog give birth in a cardboard box. I mean, I wouldn’t want that. I promised her so much more.
I drank a few vodka tonics (as I hope Prudence did before conception) and with masking tape, pillows and towels built her a birthing mecca. We can do this. I am not fainting.
We have only a few days left so please send good vibes. I’m absolutely terrified. If you are looking for a puppy then I have no idea what Prudence mated with but at the end of the day I don’t care.
I’m Prudence’s mom and I’m Team Prudence and who hasn’t had someone they wish they couldn’t erase?
So slutty street dog, maybe someone out there is looking for your spawn. Know I’ll take care of them (even if you did it with some ghostbuster looking loser so beneath you-been there.)
Please give me birthing advice! Please! I don’t know anything?