I have this dog named Grandma Moses.
I picked the name before I picked the dog. I think they are a perfect match.
The day I moved back to Tacoma, I woke up at 5 a.m. to drive from Moscow, Idaho to Boise to get Grandma Moses.Then we headed West.
I don’t think she’d ever left the state before, but I think our three-state route was lost on her.
Sometimes she looks at me with such love in her eyes I am convinced I am her soulmate.
I am not so sure that she is mine, but ole GMo is a swell dog nontheless.
Grandma also is a very docile dog. She doesn’t mind being picked up, dressed up, dangled from a hip.
She has no problem being occasionally (hair)spray-painted with black spots and disguised as a dalmatian. Grandma was the dalmatian to my Cruella De Vil for about three hours this Halloween.
Please note the wagging tail.
Then she pooped in my car, fell down in it, scrabbled around in a panic, tied herself to the emergency break and managed to turn on my hazard lights.
I had barely enough time to race home and scrape the poop out of her fur before I had to race back to school and teach a French class. The dalmatian spots went down the drain with the poop.
I left her at home and carried a Beanie Baby dog for the rest of the day.
I think she was at least a little ashamed.
I’m already brainstorming our costumes for next year. Perhaps Grandma Moses can dress as me, and I can dress as Grandma Moses.