#piper and bandit came from the same litter

[bluesey-182]

here's paris, a.k.a "karen" (or, according to my mexican boyfriend, "the sassy latina" bc she's a cuban dog and "his daughter"):

bandit, a.k.a "himbo":

and piper, a.k.a "confused lesbian"

and here's a bonus picture for your amusement:

i have three dogs and their personalities can be described as: karen, himbo, and confused lesbian

[pokeywhippets]

Piper came home on August 8th, seemingly perfectly healthy, looks can be and are deceiving and I accept that, I saw her picture and wanted her out of the litter. I got the puppy that I wanted and that was that.

Barely into our second week, Piper shows signs of skin problems. Veterinarian finds ringworm near the injection site where some random person vaccinated her. We treat her for that with bathing. Then she develops bumps, so we stop bathing. That spot eventually clears up.

Soon Piper begins losing her fur. After a skin scraping, we find that it was demodectic mange and we begin treatment.

September 26th, I meet with the director of where Piper came from. I present the veterinary documents, explain everything that is going on, the $250+ in veterinary bills piling up, etc. I was asked if I was looking to return Piper, I replied that of course not, I love this puppy and I will continue to pay whatever it takes to get her healthy again. He was nice enough to refund the $200 that was paid for Piper, to help pay for further veterinary bills.

I did not ask for that but am very thankful. What I specifically requested was that they contact the families that Piper’s littermates went to, but the response I got was, “well we haven’t heard anything from them... so...”

Before leaving, another staff member who was also in that meeting, hugged me and thanked me for “giving the puppy such a great home” and “being such a good dog owner”, or something like that, “because most people would just return her and want their money back.”

September 27th, Piper dies.

Today, October 5, I finally compose myself enough to call the place I got Piper from. Reception answers, I requested to speak with the same director/manager I previously met with concerning this matter, but he is out of the building, “so you can speak to another director instead if that is okay?” Reception, or whatever, also asked what this was concerning, so I explained. I am put on hold, told that so-and-so is doing paperwork but will get on as soon as they can. I get transferred to a veterinary technician, do not know if they were a director or manager.

This person could not have possibly been more apathetic, dismissive, or cold, and in such few words, it was amazing. All the while I am sobbing and can barely speak at moments or gather my thoughts. (It was incredibly painful having to explain everything that transpired, twice, having to relive it, it hurt.)

“Well, losing a pet is very hard.”

Oh, I had no idea, this is the first time I have experienced death, so thank you for telling me that. I am glad people like you are there to tell people like me that death is not easy.

“What do you want from me?” “What is it that you want us to do?”

I don’t fucking know. Maybe have a little compassion? Maybe not speak to me in monotone? As if you’re just watching the clock, waiting for this phone call to be over with? Like you’re making hand motions signalling to others your hurried desire for me to wrap this up so you can go back to doing your paperwork? Maybe be a human? You work for an organization that supposedly “saves animals”, or whatever your stupid mission statement is, and you have nothing to say to me other than “Losing a pet is hard.” Maybe rethink your career choice?

Twice, I requested, please contact the owners of my puppy’s littermates. Just make sure their puppies are okay.

“Well, mange isn’t transferable. And we haven’t heard anything from them.”

So the fuck what? I am asking that you contact the owners just to make sure their puppies are healthy, and at the very least, alive. You asked me what I wanted, and I told you. Why is making this one single and simple request like pulling fucking teeth with you people?

What if Piper had parvo? Would you wait to hear from the owners or would you take the responsibility and call them up yourself to make sure those puppies are okay? I know the answer to that, because I know what kind of organization you work for.

(And don’t the other owners have the right to know about their puppies’ previously sick and now dead littermate?)

And because I was refunded the $200, I imagine you’d like to avoid, at all costs, the possibility of having to offer the same thing to even just one of the owners of her littermates should it be ill for any reason. Oh, I know, I really do.

“Okay so you’re just calling to tell us the puppy is dead?”

Oh my fucking god.

Anyway, I guess the person I spoke with is going to “leave a message” with the director/manager I requested to speak to in the first place, but I don’t believe I’ll be receiving a call back or anything.

I have had numerous bad experiences with this place in the past, so it only makes sense that the one puppy I pick out gets sick and dies. I guess I should not have expected any less than that with their history, so that one is on me, lol!

I had been looking at Chihuahuas and Chi mixes for two years, then I come across Piper’s picture, I meet her, I take her home, I am not at all in the least unsatisfied with anything about her. She was very timid at first, but almost instantly bonded with me while at the facility. Piper became a velcro-puppy, she followed me everywhere, climbed at my legs begging to be held or carried. At first she was terrified of the other dogs, nipped at them when they got too nosy, but it didn’t take long for her to love her new brothers, especially Watson. Piper loved playing with Watson, she would pester him for his bully sticks or pig ears, so I’d often have to trade hers for his, going back and forth, playing musical munchies. Piper loved climbing all over Bandit. She loved everyone she met and all the other animals, she kissed the faces of all people and the other animals. Watson loved her, he chased the cats away from her, posed as her body guard while outside to keep the Whippets away, he snuggled with her, licked/groomed her head and face, he was always so gentle with her, never once played too rough. I knew Watson would be fine with another small dog in the house but I never expected him to show so much affection, when he is hardly an affectionate dog. They made a great pair, but Piper always preferred me over Watson, which made me feel so special.

Piper was a lot of fun while she was well, she was silly and hyper like any other puppy, sweet and loving, very smart and already knew sit, down and spin. She was such a good puppy.

I loved everything about Piper. She was perfect.

Piper was the first puppy I picked out of a litter since Sasha, eleven years ago. And both ended in tragedy for me.

I wanted her to be my little road dog, to come along with us to dog shows.

I wanted to do agility with her, I bought a small agility tunnel just for her but never got to use it.

I bought her a Halloween sweater, she never got to wear it.

I have more than half a bag of puppy food left over, and a tiny empty crate.

But I gotta remember, “Losing a pet is hard.” I would have never known that had no one told me over and over again on the phone today. Thanks!

Yeah. Fuck it. I am done now.