I have to take Tuesday off work next week. Eric and I have rented a cabin for a weekend in June, and the cabins don’t allow dogs, and so we need to find a place to board the dogs. My dogs have an interview at a local kennel. I am as nervous as a Manhattan mother signing her kid up for preschool.
This is no ordinary kennel. This is the Google of dog kennels, the Ivy League of dog kennels. I really want the dogs to go there – Brownie, in particular, needs lots of daily exercise – and they won’t let me book the weekend until after the interview.
I hope the dogs will get in, but right now, it’s a little iffy. They’re usually good with other dogs – unlike Bear, who loved to show who was top dog, especially with Golden Retrievers and similar tough cookies. But..come to your name? That’s a tough one.
Then there’s the pit bull thing. No pit bulls. No pit bull mixes. No dogs that even remotely look like a pit bull. Brownie is clearly not a pit bull, but Cocoa? The dog that every canine professional looks at, shrugs, and says “mutt?” The Dean of Admissions said that a brindle coat means Cocoa is either part Boxer or part pit bull. (Or Whippet. Or Bulldog. Or Great Dane, Greyhound, or Tennessee Brindled Treeing Hound. But never mind.) I’m crossing my fingers, hoping that a dog that looks like Yoda coated in tiger fudge will pass as a Boxer mix.