Ironic Houseguest

We have a greyhound houseguest for the weekend, one Lucky Alexandria, also known as Alex or Alex-NO. Miss Alex took a nasty tumble on the hardwood floors at home and hurt her back hip, so while her family is on vacation she’s here with us, under mandatory crate rest.

I was prepared for having to help her go outside to potty. I was prepared for her pain meds to make her sleep so deeply she might have accidents in her crate. I was prepared for the whining/whistling she does…she was our foster for five months before going to live with Amy and Charles.

What I was not prepared for was how much she would remind me of Liz. Poor thing, I scared her to death just a bit ago when I took her outside to potty and started bawling when she finally did her thing. See, I was encouraging her to walk with a sweatshirt helping support her back end and as I was saying “that’s a good girl, keep going, let’s get to the grass sweetheart,” I accidentally said “that’s a good girl Lizzard!”

Oops.

I can’t help but think that somewhere up there Liz is proud of me for taking care of her old friend Alex. The two of them would lie out in our yard together in the sun when Alex was a foster here, and I could just imagine them chatting it up like a couple of little old ladies at a bridge game. Alex followed Liz everywhere, almost like she was learning how to be graceful and dignified at Liz’s paw.

It’s funny too how it worked out that we ended up with Alex for the weekend. Amy and Charles asked me to come out Tuesday night and check on her because of the fall. I did, and encouraged them to take her to the vet. Amy tried to get an appointment with a vet close to them but no one seemed to have anything available, so we ended up bringing Alex to my vet. I volunteered to keep her over the weekend while they are at the beach. It all just fell into place…like someone up there was pulling the strings I guess.

It’s different having a fourth dog in the house again. It’s challenging that she needs such special care…she can’t even come upstairs with us because she can’t walk that well yet. (There are no broken bones, just some soft tissue damage that needs crate-rest to heal.) It’s like I’m getting a second chance to help a dog to kinda make up for the guilt I felt that I hadn’t done enough for Liz before she died.

And it’s nice to have my Alakazam back, even if it’s only for a weekend. I promise you, Lizzard, I’ll do the best I can for your buddy.

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