The puppy is preparing for the wrong profession.

Yes, she’ll probably make a terrific service dog, but seriously, there’s something else to which she would be far more suited.

My baby should be in pictures.

This girl is more dramatic than Sarah Bernhardt. The performance she gave in front of the neighbor’s house while wearing her Halti was of Oscar caliber.

She’s spent the past month first at the GDA facility on a fainting couch in the section for Dogs In Delicate Condition (she was in heat). We left for nearly two weeks in England before she was released so two insanely generous puppy sitters tag-teamed to care for her while we were away (you both are so amazing and I cannot thank you enough…)

We picked Miss M up at the second sitter’s yesterday. We entered the house and she immediately barked like the Hillside Strangler had emerged to do someone in (she was blocked into the kitchen with the sitter’s puppy).

Much zoomies ensued as she realized we were taking her home. Not that she didn’t love spending time visiting (she really, really does) but yeah. It’d been a month and she was ready.

She got in the car and I swear she purred the whole way home. I guess MaeMae had been teaching her the finer points of felinity while the puppy was younger. Never seen/heard a dog purr before, but check this out:

En route home, happy as a clam…

So for anyone who doesn’t know, we had a tough time getting Miss M to wear the Halti (goes across the bridge of her nose, attaches to her collar, and makes it uncomfortable to jump or make sharp turns so she’s much more controlled when she’s on walks). So… we sent it with her as part of her supplies but didn’t hold out much hope.

She seemed okay when we went for our daily walk this morning – left the house wearing it after I convinced her to put it on with a few treats – but two houses from home and she flung herself on the ground, scratching at it with eyes rolled back in her head.

Me: C’mon pupster! Let’s keep walking.

Dog: Woe is me! Woe is MEEEEEEEE…

Me: Seriously. Not that bad.

Dog: ooooooh wooooooe wooooooe wooooooe…

Me, getting my hands under her belly: Upsie daisy!

Dog, attempting to roll on her back with her paw over her eyes: HOW can I possibly move with this torture device on my sensitive schnozzie?

Me: How about a treatie?

Dog, instantly on her feet and in position: I can work with that

Back on the road…

She was fine until we got back home, and it was all soap opera dramatics again in the front hall.

Me: Honey, I can’t get that off unless you let me get the hook undone.

Dog: ooooh woooe woe woe woe I am tortured

Me: Seriously, just… just… a little to the left…

Dog, swooning to the right: It’s a muzzle. A muzzle I tell you

Me: it is NOT a muzzle. It’s a halter, and if you don’t let me unhook it you’re gonna be stuck in it…

Dog: I’M STUCK?!! You stuck me in this PERMANENTLY?! How could you??

Me: What are you, the cat? Stop being so hysterical.

Cat: I’m totally calm right now. And I’m good with the permanent thing.

Me: Would you be quiet. Puppy, just… just lean over here…

I finally got her unhooked but yon pup didn’t realize it at first – she kept pawing at her nose, trying to get the phantom strap off her face.

Dog: oh woe woe woe is me I cannot… wait, where is it?

Cat: The walking can opener took it off two minutes ago, ding dong.

Dog: I’m free? I’m free! I’m FREEEEEEEEEE

And all is well again at the lunatic asylum…

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