In September of my last year as an undergrad, I was on the phone to my mother in Toronto. There is something you should know about my mom— she really, really likes dogs. There was a point in my childhood, between the ages 10-13 where we went from owning just one sweet dog, to five awesome pooches. My parents split up a year later and I like to think my poor mother had been filling the void in her romantic life with canine companions. But that’s neither here nor there.
So turns out the pup had a brother, who was sitting in the car when our new pooch (Pearl) was dropped off. WELL, my mom was not about to let any other family take this dog (who we named Jesse Noodle), because Lord knows what might happen to him. She had no choice but to rescue the dog from a bleak existence.
Meet Jesse and Pearl:
Now before you get all judgey and condemn me for being soooo irresponsible, let me just say this: piss off It wasn’t an ideal situation but, *spoiler alert*, everything turned out just FINE.
Three months later, I was drunk and acting stupid at the Underground when I got a call from my mom. “Pearl’s having puppies,” she said. Pearl had delivered two already, and there was no way I was going to miss the entire birthing of my doggy children.
I hopped in a cab, sped home and of course, got caught in traffic about four blocks from my place. I threw some money at the driver and proceeded to hoof it. So I was sprinting through Yorkville at two in the morning, screaming “I’M HAVING PUPPIESSSS” at the top of my lungs. I looked like a drunken banshee, but this was no fire drill. It was go time.
I made it upstairs and dove beside the closet where Pearl was delivering. Jesse Noodle was sitting next to her like a worried father (I totally picture him now in a top hat, smoking a cigar), and my mom was having the time of her life. Three puppies were out, with three more to go. I sat and cried my drunk eyes out as Pearl delivered three slimy sacs of grossness. I was so proud of my little dog and could not wait to play with the puppiessss in the weeks to come.
Okay, you’ve waited long enough. Here are some photos:
The First Night. Pearlie was a doting mother, she didn't let Jesse near the pups for three weeks. She was pretty pissed at him for what he had done.
Needless to say, the dogs brought endless joy and entertainment to my life that summer. I had six puppies running around for nine weeks and each day I thought my heart was going to explode from the cuteness. It was debilitating. I hardly slept. Often I would lay on the floor and just watch them walk and make noises.
What I wouldn't give to spend another day watching them squeak and fight.
It was a very sad time when the puppies started going to their new homes. My mother did a rigorous screening process, resulting in most of the dogs going to people we knew. I say most of them, because my mom couldn't bear to part with "*the runt*
*The runt* was a tiny thing, with one eye slightly bigger than the other. I called her Wonky, after Paris Hilton and her wonky eye (don't think I like Paris Hilton-- this was my way of making fun of her every day). The name stays true to this day, but my mom also calls her Liza, especially in front of company. You can imagine why.
This is Wonky now. She's in Toronto and I miss her silly little face.The message here, friends, is that life doesn't always happen exactly as planned, but usually finds a way to work out.