Ginger, the Dissing Dog.

An old friend of mine accidently inherited a dog.  By accidently, I mean she absolutely didn't want it. Her kids were scared of dogs, she herself was not a dog person and as luck would have it, this dog happened to be among the most hyper & high maintenence breed of dogs (brittany spaniel).  'Ginger' had previously belonged to her mother in law, but grandma could no longer care for Ginger and her incessant need to play.  Husband offered to adopt the dog.  Wife offered to suffocate husband in his sleep.  Dog ownership ensued.

So, fast forward a couple of years.  The dog snarls at the children, never stops wanting to play and just generally annoys everyone, especially my friend.  I witnessed Ginger's relentlessness during a weekend visit.  Jesus, you couldn't even sit idle on the deck without Ginger pacing at your feet dying for you to throw her ball.  So, you'd throw the ball so far into the woods, you'd assume Ginger would never come back.  Oh no, 5 minutes later, Ginger would be back at your feet nudging that effing ball back toward your feet again.  The ball went missing once and Ginger would spend at least 17 hours a day frantically looking for it.  My friend finally broke down, went to Pet Smart and replaced it.  Of course, it wasn't just any ball....it was the $12 kong ball, or whatever the hell it was.  Fancy! 

After several years, the family couldn't take it anymore, they'd decided to put Ginger up for adoption.  The adopted family showed up to pick up their new dog and my friend called her children to come say goodbye to Ginger.  The kids could barely muster the energy to look in Ginger's general direction and offer a weak, "bye".   The new owners backed out the driveway and my friend goes barrelling down the street to retrieve Ginger.  She couldn't go through with it.  She was like the Grinch who's heart had grown 10 sizes that day.  Christmas, it came without bags. It came without boxes or ribbons or tags.  As she brought Ginger back into the house, I think she expected Ginger to be falling all over herself with gratitude.  But, I think my friend sensed a bit of disappointment on Ginger's behalf.  Ginger hung her head and sighed, as if to say, "Oh well.  Easy come, easy go".

Fast forward another couple of months (or years....who knows really--it's their story to tell, not mine) and Ginger gets put up for adoption again.  Honestly, what chance did she have?  With a name like Ginger?  It just sounds bitchy.  Like Dutchess, for example--worst dog name, ever!  Anyway, I digress.  Ginger gets adopted by a lovely family in Kalamazoo.  You might think the story ends here.  You'd be wrong.

Fast forward many-a-month later.  My friend's sister is at an event in Kalamazoo and would you believe she ran into Ginger and her new owners?  Auntie was all excited to see her former dog-niece but Ginger was all, "I've moved on.  You should too".   Ginger was wearing a diamond encrusted collar.  She was groomed to the nines and may or may not have had her toe nails painted pink.  I don't like to spread rumors, so let's just say allegedly.  Auntie was like, "get a load of Ginger!"  But, Ginger wasn't endulging her.  She totally dissed auntie.  I guess she said something along the lines of, "Listen, we had some good times.  Like that one time you threw a ball into the woods for me. (pause for effect)  Yeah, I lived there for 4 years and I can see how throwing a ball more than once a day can seem excessive (Ginger was always so sarcastic). No, no, don't feel guilty.  I'm with a new family now.  My new mom is as barren as a rusty pipe, so you can imagine her devotion to me. Check out my coat...silky.  Check out my teeth...sparkly.  And you can tell that witch of a sister that I said, "how d'ya like me now....beeotch??"  Then I guess she gave some dog-gang-sign with her paw, spun on her hind legs, and waltzed away.

Epic Diss!!!!  .....And the moral of the story is...(wait for it)..... Hell, I don't know.  It wasn't my dog.