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“How long is that spaniel supposed to be boarding for?” I asked Marc one evening.
“Nobody knows,” he shook his head and sighed. “Her owner is still in the hospital. That surgery he had didn’t go well. Seems the hip got infected or had to be replaced again, I’m not sure.”
“Poor guy,” I sympathized. “He must miss his dog.”
“You know Betty’s been bringing her to the hospital to visit him,” Marc informed me.
“Really?” I was surprised. “That’s great. It must do both of them a lot of good.”
Whatever good it the visits did psychologically, they couldn’t help Sandy’s owner physically. As his health deteriorated it became clear that there was no way he was coming back for Sandy. He agreed to sign her over to the hospital and we promised to find her a good home. The obvious choice was Betty. She and the dog had already bonded. A happy ending? Not quite. About six months later Betty was informed that there was a new owner making new laws where she lived. All dogs acquired after a certain date had to be gone by that Friday. Betty’s two greyhounds were “grandfathered.” Sandy was not. Although everyone at the hospital tried desperately to find her a good, new home, 48 hours just wasn’t enough time. There was only one other option.
“We’ll take her,” I told Marc who readily agreed.
“We have to take her. We promised the owner we’d look after her.”
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“This is trouble waiting to happen,” I muttered, so I opened the back door and Sandy bounded out, forgetting the bird and happy to explore our very large fenced-in yard on a brisk November day. I don’t know what caused me to glance out the window a few minutes later. But I did...just in time to see Sandy doing a very poor version of the dog paddle, barely keeping afloat in the deep end of our pool. Running outside in a panic I rushed to the side of the pool and leaned over far enough to grab her and pull her up and out. We were both terrified, freezing and soaking wet. After drying her off and changing my clothes, I called Marc. “I don’t think we can keep this dog unless we get a lifeguard.”
On Monday I happened to be visiting a friend whose husband is also a veterinarian. I told her about Sandy including her near drowning experience.
“I can’t leave her in the house alone with the bird. I can’t leave her out in the yard with the pool.”
“A golden cocker spaniel, you say?” Michelle asked. “You know we just had to put ours down last year. It was heartbreaking for the kids. Can you bring Sandy over? Does she get along with children?”
Of course Sandy got along with Michelle’s children. Especially Michelle’s little 4 year old daughter, in whose bed Sandy sleeps peacefully every night, in that good home we promised her owner. With no pool and no bird.



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