Happy Gotcha Day, Princess Belle!

Fourteen year old Princess Belle joined my crew one year ago today. A scrawny, crippled, deaf little sheltie, bereft of her elderly dad who had recently passed away and his wife who returned to her country of origin to be cared for by family members, I’m sure Belle felt lost and confused.

But she tripped her way into my house, told the two resident dogs (Charley and Caleb) to mind their manners, and immediately became Princess Of All She Surveys. Ever the one to believe she is entitled, she has no qualms about snapping her alligator jaws at dogs three times her size when they block her view of the cookie jar or try to climb into her bed or crate. She also has no qualms about commanding me, her humble servant, to “Get up!”, “Bring dinner!” or “Open this door….NOW!” several times a day. I, of course, do exactly as she has bid.

She walks with head high, her funny little arthritic feet giving her the appearance of a runway model going through her paces just before the big show – dainty little steps, a slight wiggle to the hips, an imperious glance back over the shoulder, slightly shaded eyes peering down the long royal nose. Though only seventeen pounds, she has perfected a “haughty” look that could shrivel a mastiff’s you-know-whats.

Good diet and gentle exercise, along with the occasional acupuncture treatment and some supplements like salmon oil, have loosened up those old joints and she now runs around after the other dogs, refereeing their games and shouting her encouragement in moments when her imperial demeanor is permitted to slip.

I’m so glad you came to live here, Belle. Your feisty attitude and impertinence make me laugh every single day. Who would have thought that a little ankle biter like you could reach right up into my heart and steal a piece of it?

Happy Gotcha Day, Princess Belle.