Here's our Emma. She is eight years old and has been in our family about a year and a half. She is a Silky Terrier, close kin to the Yorky, but a bit sturdier looking. If we let her hair grow long, it is curly and quite beautiful, but since she is a country dog and in and out of the house a lot, it makes much more sense to keep a close cut. Emma, also known as Emma Love or Emma Rue, is a terrific little dog and wonderful companion.
When we got Emma, I wasn't even looking for a dog. I had barely gotten over the loss of our previous one, and I just didn't think I was ready. Anyway, I went to get my hair done one day, and Crista, my long-time since she was in 7th grade in my class friend and also long-time hair doer, asked if I might want a dog, as she was trying to find a home for Emma. I still don't quite understand why Emma needed another home, but I mulled it over. I thought it might be nice for our outside dog, Buster, to have a friend. He had seemed kind of depressed and lonely lately after his best dog-friend died, and having another dog around might perk him up. So I asked, "Is she an OUTSIDE dog?" "Oh, yeah," I was assured. "want to see her?" Sure enough, there was Emma, overgrown hair and all, hunkered over a deer leg, chomping away. Yep. OUTSIDE DOG. "Where does she sleep," I asked, as I looked dubiously at the little mongrel. "Oh, anywhere she finds a place," my little friend said. "Well, as long as she's an OUTSIDE dog, I think we can take her. Bill will be ok with that."
"OK, I'll clean her up, and we will be over with her on Sunday afternoon," Crista said, smiling.
Got home with great hair, told my sweetie about our new dog, he griped, but was ok with the idea of an OUTSIDE DOG for Buster. Now, look at that picture again. Does that look like OUTSIDE to you? No, no, no, no, no.
When Crista and her family arrived, the dirty, smelly, tangled, little puff-ball of a dog that was chewing on a deer leg had been replaced by this precious, groomed, friendly, silky, shiny little PRINCESS of a dog. Emma has NEVER spent another night OUTSIDE. She sleeps in her own little crate in the laundry room unless the weather is stormy, in which case she hunkers down at the foot of our bed. Let me make that clear: NOT on the FLOOR, but on the bed itself. That's a first with us. She has a real fear of storms. It's probably because of all those scary times she spent OUTSIDE trying to find a hiding place from storms. . . this little OUTSIDE dog. Tonight, Emma is not home with us. She is really sick with pancreatitus (I think that's the spelling, not sure) and is in the hospital. I knew something was wrong when she came to wake me yesterday morning, as is her usual morning chore, and she didn't say anything to me; she just sat on the rug, panting. I was already awake, but was waiting for her to come, because it's part of our morning routine. I got right up, dressed, walked through the house, told my husband, got the keys, and was off with Emma to the vet. The illness is scary, but she's improving and will certainly be home again soon. We miss her. She plays with us; she makes us laugh out loud every day, and gives us as much affection and, yes, LOVE, as we do her. . . Emma, our little INSIDE dog.