Sweet Jane

Meet Jane the Dane.

It gives me great pleasure to announce that the Drysdale family are now the proud parents of a three-year-old Great Dane. Named Jane.

Jane hails from rural Quebec where she spent the first three years of her life in a puppy mill popping out babies. She comes to us courtesy the good people at the dog-rescue association 'Danes in Distress' and a nice lady named Phyllis, her current foster care-giver.

I had hoped to give Paxton a proper period of grieving after he died six weeks ago. Because if there's one thing I can't stand, it's when someone's life-long husband or wife dies and they go out and right away get remarried while their former spouse is still warm in the grave.

But when the opportunity to get a new Great Dane came up out of the blue, I thought it was time to get on with life. True, I feel a bit like a slut and more than a bit of a hypocrite and it turns out that I'm not quite the person I always thought I was - but so what? That's a small price to pay to once again have a dog for a friend. After having Paxton, I can't imagine life without one.

Or - as Marge Simpson once put it, "Someone to share our love."

The Girl doesn't officially move in for another week but she is slowly adapting on her visits here. Jane certainly isn't no mere replacement or mirror-image dog. Paxton arrived in his middle-age and ready to retire. Whereas, Jane may have retired from baby-making but she's still just barely out of her teens. He was a he and she is a she. He was fawn-coloured and she's black. He said 'Po-tate-oes' and she says 'Toam-aht-toes.' And when unleashed for a romp in the backyard, Paxton would gallop. Jane moves at more of a fast trot. Typically female, she runs just like a girl.

The one thing they have in common is a deep dislike for other dogs. When we go for a walk, just like Paxton, she goes ape-shit at the sight of another dog. Paxton got that from being attacked by a couple of unleashed brutes when he was a puppy. Jane has the same aversion for her fellow canines because of a youth spent cranking out puppies. Apparently she's had enough of her species.

Alas, once again I shall be turned down for membership in the Wortley Village Mutt Club.

Not that I'm complaining. I guess there IS some benefit to owning an unsocial dog after all.