Frida the Fox

I have a draft started about the anniversary of my narcolepsy diagnosis somehow flying by me earlier this month, but I’d rather talk about something way cuter than narcolepsy:

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is she not tiny & adorable?? also, note the pillow.

To clarify, Frida is not a fox. She is my dog, of mostly indeterminate lineage. She reminds me of one though. On Tuesday, when my sister and I got up way too damn early and drove an hour* for her to be spayed, (because ain’t nobody got time for a) adolescent dogs in heat and b) more puppies) the first thing out of the vet techs mouth was an affectionate “well it’s a little fox!”

*Why an hour away, you ask? If you guessed because our original vet at the local low-cost clinic (the only one…) suddenly left, you’d be right. But you’d also be correct if you guessed that I balked *slightly* at paying ~$450 to have it done with our new vet (who I do really like aside from that price tag), or assumed that two other local vet practices I called were not accepting new clients, or you surmised that the next two clinics (one local, one two towns over) couldn’t get her in until mid-March. anyways…

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resigned to lack of breakfast at 5:30am

My friend told me about this reputable low-cost spay and neuter clinic, but after filling out their online form I assumed it’d be April before we could get scheduled. Until I got a call back, and the wonderful office lady was actually able to put us in in less than a week.

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dazed & confused

So now the pup can no longer have puppies and at time of writing (Wednesday evening) little miss is starting to feel like herself again. I suspect the sass level to increase significantly in the next couple days as the adolescent realizes she’s still under activity restrictions.

On March 1st Frida’ll have been ours for three months, but it’s funny to reflect that I’ve known her for over a year.

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Tiny Frida!

In late November 2017, a regular at the health food store I used to work at had recently adopted a new dog after losing one of her two to old age. This dog, Addie, turned out to be pregnant, and this regular, a professor, got 8 more dogs than she had planned for.

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From left to right: pups Finn & Gloria, “uncle” Chance at the bottom, and mom Addie

For someone whose dog breeding experience goes about as far as Animal Planet, it felt special that my sister and I were allowed to see them a little over a week after they were born, and professor continued to welcome me whether to play, help give a break, or just chat with her and her family as they got older. I would have been overwhelmed day 1 (and I’m sure there was plenty of that), but I also admired her willingness to let things slide off because, as she said more than once, this time was so short in the grand scheme of things.

February (2018) came along and one by one the puppies (except Finn who was already being kept) were placed in their forever homes. With my health situation at the time, I resigned myself to the fact that the timing was off, and a dog for me would be out there when it was right.

I can’t say that the end of November, winter coming, and knowing I was losing my job sounds like the best time. Especially when we found out on a Wednesday that Frida could use a new home as soon as that weekend. And then that she wasn’t spayed yet, and that she hadn’t gotten her follow up shots from when professor took her originally, oh and she might have fleas. But it was the first time both my mom and sister had said yes, soooo…

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suhprize!

There were also second thoughts when, within five minutes of getting her to our house, she escaped. I was walking her out in the yard in her harness, when a neighbor dog came out and Frida’s brain fell onto the ground. Next thing I know she’s slipped right out of the harness, but no problem, she’s still got her collar, right? I calmly get a hold of that and then see a cat hop into the yard. I blink and am left standing with a leash, collar, harness, and a Frida tearing across the yard toward said cat.

This is definitely one of those instances where time slows down to molasses. The cat got through our gate, but then in some of the most impressive acrobatics I’ve seen from a dog, Frida literally *pinged* off of the fence, and popped the damn thing open.

Off she went, me in hot pursuit through the gate and convinced we’d never see her again and the professor (who had helped with pickup) going through the house for her car. I swear I looked every direction and didn’t see a dog in any of them, but then I heard my mom and sister.

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who, me?

“She’s here, she’s here!” Somehow Frida magically and casually appeared at our back door, ready to be let in like she’d done it a hundred times. While way more excitement that I wanted, I suppose I also see it as an omen that she was the one we were supposed to get.

Also thankfully (cannot stress enough) she did not have fleas, but she did have a nasty rash on her belly. The entirety of December, January, and early part of February she was on a combination of antibiotics/antifungals, and then when she was *finally* finishing that, the vet left the clinic.

Bringing it back toward the beginning, we’ve now almost got our baseline stuff taken care of, and I’m excited to be spending less $$ and time on vets and more on fun things and adventures :)

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already getting the hang of running

 

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