Alpha females. Adopt, don’t shop. 2
I promise I won’t turn into a mommy blogger or a new mom who thinks she’s got the best baby on earth. But until I date again, all I can do is sing the praises of my new rescue dog.
Dixie showed up as a stray at a SoCal shelter with pink toenail polish on. That’s a sure sign she was living with a family or with a tweaker that wanted something to do. She walks beside my knee on leash. She always craps next to the curb. She sits. She lays. She goes down when another dog approaches.
I knew Dixie was an alpha female the first time I took her to the beach. I wanted to believe she was just socially awkward, but when I watched her play, she was the four-legged version of a bull-dyke field hockey player. This was confirmed when she stopped squatting like a dainty lady to pee and backed up to telephone polls and squirted. She enjoyed marking over the leg-cocking boys and making her own urine graffiti.
Friday I took her to get evaluated for doggie daycare. I told them she was three, high energy, and liked to play rough, but I didn’t think she was aggressive. She just needed to pick her playmates wisely. After testing her two hours, she was approved to join the team.
Now I wait and see how many days before she’s fouled and put on the sidelines. Even good babies have their bad days.