She IS the devil. The very, very stoned devil.
|Look at the white flap over her right eye! WHAT IS THAT? The screams of the dead, that's what.|
Her surgery went off without a hitch, at least as far as I could decipher the vet's crazy-in-depth jargon regarding "interesting" fat layers between "subcutaneous" and blah blah blah. I was like, "Dude. Clearly Gray didn't slip you enough caysh to ensure this demon dog had an unfortunate accident, so just shut the fuck up and let me get out of here. I want to try her Rimadyl."
But oh no, this vet used to hunt raccoons and so he had a particular fondness for Lily and her breed, which is Treeing Walker Coonhound, if you care. I don't. Never heard such a ridiculous breed name in my life, in fact.
But he did confirm what we suspected: Lily may be the devil, but it's her breeding and treatment running the flames. Apparently, coonhounds are not pets. Did you know that? He said they're livestock. LIVESTOCK. My pweshy-weshy licky bear bear stretchy-bean butter sticks princess is NOT a cow. Actually, if I could milk it, I might trade her for one. But seriously? Cattle?
SHE IS A DOG. A pet. A HUMAN BEEEEEEEEEING.
Or she should be, at least. She most definitely acts like every rich emo kid I've ever known. But apparently these dogs are considered valuable only for their tracking/treeing abilities, and once they stop performing or the hunter takes a financial hit of some kind, these dogs are considered "overhead." Which is almost certainly why Lily was found running around the fields of Iowa - she was sent out on her own to either find some help or die.
Did you know that wild raccoons can grow to be, like, 8,000lbs?!?! Or more like 35-40lbs with very! sharp! teeth! The vet confirmed Lily's scars and split ear were all coon-inflicted. Injured in the line of duty. She should have won a medal. Instead, she got the boot. And according to the vet's explaination of the hunting process, it's usually the hunter's error that causes such injuries - a poorly aimed shot will send the pissed of coon down to attack the dog, sometimes dragging them underwater TO DROWN.
She was also bred at least once, and he said that some of the puppies (of champion stock) can pull in $2,000 for a female. Un. Fucking. Real. I mean, wouldn't it be cheaper to, like, but a camcorder and figure out where the raccoons hang out and then go sneak up on them all ninja-style? Why the fuss? Why the pageantry? WHY DO YOU THINK FOR A SECOND WE WANT TO WEAR RACCOON FUR?
I am curious what they taste like, though. Except I'll never know.
|Here, have bonus Scary.|