For the sixth straight summer, our granddog Winston has summered in La Jolla. We just pretty much expect that Winston will arrive with our younger son when he comes down for the La Jolla Half Marathon in late April and stay until early October. My son and daughter-in-law tend to have a lot of weekend trips in the summer months – weddings, etc. – and it’s far easier for them to just leave Winston here rather than for my daughter-in-law to make multiple trips from L.A. with tiny kids in the car to drop him off and pick him up. Never mind that Winston hates being in the car. He made a special point of that one trip by having a severe case of lower intestinal instability in their back seat.
Aside from the fact that we truly adore Winston and
are happy to house him, we just wouldn’t put Winston in a kennel. Not even the Ritz
Carlton of kennels. The ostensible reason is that Winston is not reliably
friendly with other dogs and we’d hate for him to be on lockdown because decided
to eat a Chihuahua. But even more so, if we’re honest, neither his parents nor
we could bear for Winston not to have the amenities, the love and attention,
and the lifestyle to which he has become accustomed. He definitely gets it at
Camp Grammy and Grampy.
We admit it: we are total suckers for our pet (in
this case, surrogate pet). This still doesn’t keep us from laughing at some of
the sacrifices that other people make for theirs. A friend was recently telling
me that she couldn’t wait for the hot weather to be over as it was stifling in
her bedroom. She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks. But, I said, don’t
you have ceiling fan in your bedroom? Yes, she said, but she can’t use it. It
annoys the cat.
At a party recently, I spoke with a woman who makes homemade
fresh food for her dog (he eschews frozen or dried.) The dog is particularly
fond of green beans, but he only likes them cooked in certain ways (not microwaved; he can apparently tell) and
with a light gravy of hamburger drippings. She rarely travels anymore, she lamented.
No matter who she hires to come in and care for the dog, she’s convinced they
don’t make the dog’s food the way he likes it. She’s especially suspicious they’re microwaving.
In our case, Winston likes to play a game that my
husband refers to as “reverse fetch.” Instead of our throwing a ball and
Winston going to get it, Winston delights in batting the ball under pieces of
furniture or in inaccessible corners then whining piteously until we go and get
it for him. A minute later, it’s back under there again.
We tell ourselves that we can easily dissuade him
from this game by ignoring him. Let him whimper and whine all he wants. But
Winston is nothing if not persistent. If action is not forthcoming, he ratchets
it up a few notches, instinctively whining especially loudly when it’s a
crucial play in a baseball game or a key point in a movie. We cave. And we’re
making fun of the friend with the fan-averse cat?
One issue we have with Winston in La Jolla that he
doesn’t have at home in L.A. is that he seems to be allergic to a multitude of
things here that he is not subjected to at home. It totally baffles us: what’s
here that isn’t there? Inquiring minds want to know. Even pumping him full of
Benedryl twice a day and regular applications of the Frontline flea stuff, the
poor little guy seems to be perpetually itchy. Our vet here (with whom Winston
is on a first name basis), has prescribed a regimen of products with which
Winston’s ears, skin folds, and toes must be cleaned daily. Preferably two – or
even three- times - daily. Cleaning between the dog’s toes the other day, I
observed to Olof that it helps that we have no life.
Several times this summer, despite our heroic
efforts, the allergies have turned into nasty ear or skin infections. When we
had him at the vet again this week, they recommended that we might want to take
Winston to a dermatologist. I said, “I don’t think our dermatologist sees
dogs.” The vet said, “No, a doggie
dermatologist.” I know what our dermatologist charges so I can’t even imagine
what the services of the canine version cost. It’s both the good news and the
bad news that anything you can do for a person, you can now do for a pet.
Fortunately for us, there’s a cheaper solution: Sorry,
Winston. Time to go home.
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