Tiffany PinkDog’s Blog

Archive for October 2007

In 1999, I adoped an old greyhound named Deoji (D-O-G). He was a great old guy. All my friends knew him, all the people at various vets’ offices would remember him, total strangers would stop me and say, “Is that Deoji! Hi, Deoji!” I don’t know why; I guess he just had the kind of face (or farts) that people remembered. Here is a picture of him at one of Lacy’s parties.

Deoji died in February of 2003. He was a good guy, and–silly as it sounds– knowing him, and all the other hounds I’ve had since, has brought me closer to God. I’m not going to go into all that, though.

So, since Deoji’s death, I’ve moved from Oklahoma to Georgia, Georgia to a short stay in Louisiana, Louisiana to New Mexico.

We selected our new vet here in NM because of the clinic’s credentials. When we got there, instead of seeing the old man vet, we saw his new partner, a Dr. Rebekah Ford. This girl looks (to me) like she is about 15 years old. She had just finished her DVM at Oklahoma State which is a crazy coincidence because we were all there at the same time and could have been her English profs, blah blah, there’s a PetCo in Stillwater now, blah blah, you wouldn’t recognize the place. Dr. Ford may look 15 but she is very competent and caring. And we go to the vet about once every two weeks (when you have elderly pets, that’s just how it is) so I have come to trust her completely with my pets’ care.

A few days after Bessie died, Tom took Chase to the vet to have a little procedure done–all right, if you must know, Chase needed his anal glands squeezed. He has chronically impacted anal glands, and you can only squeeze them empty by inserting your fingers into his you-know, and Tom and I are not down with that. But Chase likes it; he’s uncomfortable when his glands get full.

Here is a picture of Chase. I would like to point out that the inside of the house has been painted since then. Orange walls with red couch, ick!

So anyway, the nurse had her arms around Chase, and he was chattering his teeth and dancing a little, and she commented on it. Dr. Ford (it is so weird to call a 15 year old looking girl “Doctor”) said, “Oh, yes, greyhounds do that! When I was an undergrad, I worked at a vet clinic where a greyhound would come in all the time. We boarded him, and stuff. He always danced and chattered his teeth.” Tom said, “Where’d you work?” and she said “All Pets.” And Tom said, “With Dr. Coleman?” and she said, “Yes…the dog’s name was Deoji.”

And Tom said, “Deoji was OUR dog!” which was followed by much being shocked and reminicing, etc. Dr. Ford knew our Deoji, who’s been dead going on five years, by name. She remembered him–and it WAS him that she remembered, not some other Dee-oj. And here we had wound up in her vet clinic, some 450 miles away, as some of her very first clients ever.

When Tom came home and told me that, I was shocked to tears. It has felt so pointless, us being here in this town that we both hate. But this vet thing…it’s far too much to be meaningless coincidence. It’s a sign from God that us winding up here wasn’t a mistake; we’re supposed to be here right now. Don’t get me wrong, I’m moving as soon as I can, and I still hate it here, but now I feel like there’s some sort of reason for us winding up here.

So, once again Deoji came to my emotional rescue. I can’t believe that sweet and stinky old dog is still looking out for me.