Wee-wees

Who?

Oh, Wheeler. Wheeler is a Porkinese Pigpull. Okay, she is pitbull-lab mix. I think. But she looks like pig, and she has a few lbs. to lose. And there’s something about the little hitch in her stride…she could pull a tractor…she’s a breed unto herself and that deserves a more interesting name than “mixed breed”.

Hubby started talking about a pair of puppies he saw in a ditch while on a dig (he’s an archaeologist). Lovely I said, bring them home and it was nice knowing you. Now, SIMMER DOWN animal activists. I was pregnant with my first child, already had a very needy little lap dog, and okay, I admit it…I am not, well, I don’t, geez…how do I say it? I’m not a huge animal person. It’s like a crime around here. So arrest me.

Anyway, I guess my threats don’t carry much weight because he kept seeing them, day after day, and whatdyaknow, home they came. One skinny and tall, one fat and short (hmmm. wonder which one that is.) We called them Ida and Yoda dog. Haha, funny, right? Not so much. I put an ad in the paper to find them…operative word…LOVING homes. But Porky really was kinda cute. Away Ida went (name changed to Maggie on the spot), and somehow, some way, Porky started working her way into my heart. So one day hubby and I are driving down the road and a pickup truck passed. In the back was a wheel barrel, the wheels turning in the wind. I had had a conversation earlier in the day with a girl at work named Kate Wheeler about our shared pregnancies and had tucked her name into my head as cute. I said, Hm, if we WERE to keep the dog, not that we are of course, we could name her Wheeler. Hubby’s reply…”I found her on Wheeler Reservoir.”

I’m not superstitious, but c’mon, how can this one be denied? It was fate, right? So Yoda became Wheeler, and then the monkeys shortened it to Wee-wees. Wee-wees is a sweet dog, but she has one very annoying habit. She RAMSSS her nose into people’s crotches. It is a little bit embarrassing. When Stinky was Christened, my brothers very gentile southern father-in-law was accosted. He calmly pushed her away and remained unruffled. But later on, as we sat sipping tea, and cooing over Stinky in his floor length vintage lace gown, Southern Gent pipes up. “I feel like I’ve been raaappped.” Nice.

As you can see, she isn’t a puppy anymore…she has more grey hair than I do (well, close). But we love her. And no, I’m still not an animal person. But Wheeler doesn’t count.