Nadia is not sure about that Roseanne business...

Judy and Poland

Laurel and Shadow.

Jeanne is partial to the older chunky girls...and if they are slightly underweight...Jeanne and her Italian mother-in-law can fix that with a serving of meatballs. Whereas, Laurel is smitten with the young, buff boys...in the image of her Shadow. Bev adores any Eskie at all...and it is funny how they ALL look like her Snowballs 1 and 2. And, Diane Gonzalez is partial to any dog that needs her. She is now the only one of us who has never hijacked a foster dog.

And, that brings me to Cindy, who recently informed me that she intended to hijack our Darling. As I paused to consider why this dog had snagged Cindy's heart, when she had the opportunity to snag so many others, I realized that it is because he is pitiful. I did not realize that Darling was pitiful, but now, I see his appeal.

Cindy surrounded by a few of her friends.

Darling's picture had barely made it to the website, when Cindy alerted me to the impending hijacking. I thought she was kidding. Pitiful?? This little boy was a no issue, highly adoptable Eskie...and I had dozens of potential adopters who had been wooed by his story. I had to re-read my write-up of Darling to look for signs of pitifulness.

"The real question," asks Poland, "is why Judy actually would want to adopt a rat...?"

This was not one of my best days. I forgot the driving instructions, and had to "wing it." Now, people who do not live in the great Commonwealth of Massachusetts will not know just how dangerous a proposition this is. Even when armed with the best written directions and a large print Road Atlas, one does not stand a rat's ass of a chance in finding one's way anywhere. So to think of "winging it," is just preposterous. I got as far as I could down Route 24, and just before I panicked, I saw a sign from God.

Go figure. Well, I am known for my lapses into delusion during which I have been accused of "speaking in tongues", so Lord knows what they heard when I said, "I will pick Darla up on Thursday morning." The hunt for Darla was on. I learned that she had been transferred to a facility that was ten minutes from my house. So, except for the two and a half hour side trip to New Bedford, this was pretty convenient.

When I saw Darla, it was not tough to figure out why this sweet, gentle dog had not been adopted during her month long stay at the Animal Rescue League. I had not seen too many dogs in such a condition. Unvetted and unbathed, Darla was a stinky, flea-infested mess. I called our vet--once again imposing upon Dr. Tricia Glazer of the Emmerson Animal Hospital--and the invincible Mr. Leon, our dog groomer, for emergency consultations.

Our first step was a thorough vet exam of our Darla, during which Dr. Glazer cracked wise and said, "Well, you better pick another name, Darla is a boy." Shocked, I actually said, "Are you sure?" And, Dr. Glazier, who is a first rate diagnostician, replied, "Well, he has a penis." And so, just like that, Darla, our two year old female Eskie, became Darling, our five year old male Eskie. I have often thought, when I have time to ponder such things, that a penis is a fairly obvious thing on a dog. But, everybody makes mistakes, even the Animal Rescue League. After all, it surely dilutes their focus to qualify the hordes of rat adopters, of which, my friend, Judy, is not one.

The second step to the resurrection of Darling was the "Fluff and Fold," so expertly performed by our Mr. Leon, whose salon is situated in the basement of the Animal Hospital. Admittedly, Mr. Leon is not a fan of Eskies after the last few he groomed for me. But, he is a trooper. He about swooned when he saw Darling, and I got several panicked calls alerting me to the various stages of the horror and warning me that Darling's new look would be extreme. Apparently, Mr. Leon wanted to distance himself from the final outcome.

Darling's new look may have been just the touch of pitiful that was required to put Cindy's hijacking in motion. I brought Darling home to an overcrowded apartment where he made himself at home immediately. I grew accustomed to him occupying the foot of the bed like a lead pipe...there was absolutely no moving Darling off the bed. In time, I became suspicious that Darling might be deaf. As I screamed at him to move his lard ass off my foot...nothing...nada...not even an ear twitch.

Darling with the Angels from God.

Did you say something??

And then, one day I came home to the usual five dog caterwauling as I entered my apartment--but no Darling. He was asleep in the sun on the balcony chaise. Only a deaf dog could have slept through that routine "howdy" from the Angels From God and Irma La Deuce. It became obvious that Darling was stone, cold deaf.

However, it seemed that Darling was a skilled lip reader. Whenever he SAW the Angels From God barking, he chimed in...often displaying two different pitches. I was convinced that Darling was trying to gaslight me. At first I would hear a very thin, nasal "woof woof" followed up by a baritone "roo roo". I could have sworn that there was an extra dog here...maybe someone that I had forgotten about. I am easily confused. But, then I saw the tonal shift with my own eyes.

That did it. He was going up to Cindy's no matter what. And within the next few weeks, we made our trek north to Maine. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon in North Maine, when Cindy first met her Darling. It was love at first sight, and Darling was every bit as pitiful as she thought he would be. Then he wowed her with his wobbly walk, and she was a goner.

Cindy's Eskie pack, Sweet Brie, and Ollie, have accepted Darling, who is now Duncan. Cindy is not a fan of my cutesy names. And even Fergus the Cat has given Duncan "four thumbs up", which is not as hard as it would seem, because Fergus actually has four thumbs...two per paw.

Fergus gives Duncan the thumps up.