Friday, March 6, 2009


When I think about the dogs in my life, the list usually goes like this: Jock, Sally, Abbie, Maggie. There was a fifth dog, however, even if she was only mine for a week in 1986.When I was seventeen, I talked my parents into letting me get a dog of my own. We went to the pound and I picked this cute little tricolored girl pup who I named Megan. Unfortunately, Megan was not as healthy as she looked. I'd had her less than a week when she started vomiting water. We took her to the vet and were told that she had Parvo. We'd caught it early, so they thought there was a chance that she might survive. She didn't, though.Poor Megan. Poor Jennifer.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Look at her paws. She would've been huge. The end of Megan was the end of the doghouse for Jock, too. He never set foot in it again.