Tutu!

 

A few weeks ago, Diana took a much needed break at the cabin while the boys and I slowly but surely destroyed the house. 

I was doing my best to pay attention to a Teams meeting while Spotify, Twitter, Reddit, Youtube and Simpsons trivia tried their best to lure me away. I got a little text alert from Diana that included a link to the Evanston animal shelter. Hmm. Must have been a mistake a slip of the finger. Moving on…

Ding. “We should totally foster her!”

Uh-oh.

I clicked on the link. “We have this INCREDIBLY sweet senior girl that really needs out of our kennel. She came to us from a less than ideal situation and deserves to live in a warm and loving home. Her name is Tutu and she’s probably about 13 years old. She’s mostly blind and deaf but has so much pep in her step. When she’s not sleeping like an angel, she wants to snuggle and get loved on. Can anyone take her in? She could probably go with calm dogs and kids that will give her space and time to settle in.”

What? Blind? Deaf? Situation? Loved on? I went into panic mode. We can’t afford another dog. Jerry is a jerk to other dogs. We just got used to our schedule with one idiot dog. Didn’t I swear we’d never have two dogs at the same time?

But her picture was just so cute. She looked like a Muppet. Or an Ewok. Or a Mewok. Plus, when the deaf, almost blind lady wants to take in a deaf, totally blind dog you kinda have to say yes. 

I went to the shelter to meet Tutu. I was a little worried about the whole “less than ideal situation” talk. What did that mean? Was she a pickpocket on the streets of London? Was she being used in a tiny circus? Was her previous owner The Situation from MTV’s “Jersey Shore?” 

The nice lady put Tutu into my arms and just started throwing her stuff into my trunk, convinced we’d fall madly in love. She was right. This fragile little old dame just snuggled into my arms and looked in my general direction with her adorable vacant eyes. If you shouted, “Tutu!” like a cuckoo clock, she would also cock her head as if to say, “Is there a cuckoo clock in this room?”

She’s settled in nicely. Jerry explained in great detail that his stuff was his stuff and she should not, under any circumstances touch his stuff or else he will bark very loudly. Whenever he barks at her she cocks her head as if to say, “Is there a cuckoo clock in this room?”

The only catch, besides her need to poop in our workout room, is an intense need to be held 24/7. To Tutu, the floor is lava. When she is not in our arms, she wanders the house, crying for someone to hold her. But, she’s blind so I get it. 

It gets a little embarrassing when I am presenting to big wigs, but I just pretend I am Dr. Evil and Tutu is my Mr. Bigglesworth, “You WILL buy this commercial…for ONE MILLION DOLLARS!” We even bought a little dog carrying bag like a 60 year old rich woman. Which makes me feel like a pretty 60 year old rich woman. 

The Evanston shelter hasn’t really checked in on Tutu, so I assume she’s already moved from the “Foster” category to the “Forever ours” category.