Bo vs. Flea

I know...my blog should be revoked for lack of posting. Sorry! See, in a way, I've been vicariously posting on The Short Years, as Jen chronicled several of our island adventures. It's like having a professional writer do your diary entries for you. I love it. All the glory...none of the work. I do have at least one post brewing about the Oregonian invasion, and really...I will write it...promise. And there will be pictures too.

Until then, I was told a Dog Tale that simply had to be written down.

I hope by now you have an inkling what a Grenadian Pothound is, and can even conjure up an image of one. As I've stated before, pothounds in need are everywhere. I fell sucker to a pair of chocolately brown eyes last term. Regardless of how level headed you are, if you remain on Grenada long enough, a pothound will coerce you into saving its life. Many pothounds have found forever homes with the med and veterinary students. Any weekend, these furry, special few, can be found frolicking in the sand along side their homeless, emaciated brethen. Clueless in regards to how different their life could of been.

So perhaps in the greatest "Cinderella" story that has ever been told...I'd like to introduce you to Flea. Flea was discovered this weekend by a visiting British woman who was out jogging. Emaciated, and with more fleas then hair, Flea drug himself up out of a ditch and pathetically in the way of the fiery, red head. I do not know what about the pup moved her to stop. I'm certain the people who were inevitably jogging with her tried to dissuade her from gathering up the infested, pothound puppy. But gather it up she did, and her daughter instantly fell in love with the little, russet colored dog. The family had visited Grenada before and knew where the SGU veterinary hospital was. As it was a holiday, the hospital was closed, but a pleading phone call prompted the on-call team to come in and assess the puppy. Dehydrated and anemic the pup was treated for his several parasitic infestations and hospitalized. The family decided to keep the little mongrel, as they have two terriers at home (from Westminster lineage) who they think will enjoy the company of little Flea.

Flea is not a very dignified name for a puppy. Especially a puppy joining a family such as the one who found him. So the hospital team has taken to calling him Prince when the family is not visiting. For you see, it was not ANY British red head who found the small pothound while jogging. It was Duchess Fergie and her security brigade. And it is not ANY bed he'll soon be sleeping in, but the Princess Eugenie's bed. The family is currently working out how to bring Prince Flea back to England, as England has strict importation laws in regards to animals. But really, what is the point of being royalty if you can't wave your hand and have people jump to do your bidding? I have no doubt that Prince Flea will be sporting a collar with the family crest and a doggie polo vest in no time at all.

Does Flea fully appreciate his new royal lifestyle? Does Bo know he's famous? Even the NYT has an opinion on that. http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/16/fashion/16firstdog.html?_r=1&ref=science

Regardless, pothounds of Grenada let this be a lesson to you. Keep coming up for air from the ditches you hide in, and the bushes you creep through. Homes are waiting for you, where you least expect them.