Vanna White Is Too Skinny

I mean she's 53 years old for Pete's sake. Look at her! Where is her stomach? Where is her turkey neck? Why doesn't she have dingle dangle arms? I'm only 5 years older and if you could NOT see my face and I was wearing a long sleeved turtle neck shirt, gloves and my legs were covered to the ankle you might possibly mistake me from the side for a woman who was expecting a baby in about 6 weeks because of my seedless watermelon stomach that gets bigger every year.

When you get to my age you begin to wonder. Are burqa's really all that bad?

I don't mean to be insensitive but they do seem a lot less expensive than a full body lift. And they come in blue.

But I'm not actually talking about that Vanna White today. I'm talking about our Vanna White. Yes, our dog extraordinaire pictured below with my precious American Bull granddaughger, Abigail who is a hurricane Katrina rescue...

Lazy? Not much.

Vanna has been with us for one year and was obtained from a Great Pyrenees rescue organization. A long time ago I vowed to never obtain a pet from anything other than a rescue organization and have kept that vow.

Prior to that fateful October one year ago I had never actually seen a Great Pyrenees in person. I liked to watch the Westminster or Eukanuba dog shows when we had a tv and vaguely remember that they are in the "gigantic working class dog" category being herd protectors by calling and reaching weights of well over 120 lbs.

So it was quite a surprise when The Boy conned us in to going to the opening of a new Pet Store and we were greeted at the front door by about eight Pyr rescues looking for a family. A beautiful, yet shocking sight. When I first walked in I thought i was being surrounded by a group of barking polar bears.

We milled around and in the process one female Pyr kept seeking me out and leaning her head against me. A completely endearing act. When I moved away she would shift her attention to The Boy placing her head in his lap as he was in a wheelchair recovering from a terrible fracture. I had just lost a decrepit poodle rescue named Ruby and was still reeling from the broken heart but I could feel myself being sucked in while looking into those sad, brown Vanna eyes.

"I'm sorry," said the Pyr rescue foster mom. "Vanna leaves tomorrow. She has been adopted."

Thank you, Jesus. I came so close to being reeled in hook, line and stinker sinker by those beckoning eyes with the inch-long, thick, black lashes. For some odd reason I felt compelled to give the foster mom my phone number, though. "If anything happens with the adoption would you call me? I am interested in this dog and this dog only." I figured she pitched my phone number the moment I left the pet store. I left feeling relieved.

When we arrived home The Boy asked me, "Mom, can we pray about that dog?" I reminded him that Vanna was leaving the next day for her adoptive placement. "I know," he replied. "I really want to pray for that one dog, though." Having experienced The power of The Boy's prayers in the past I agreed.

Dear God we really love this dog but we know she is being adopted. If anything happens will you send her to us? We want your will to be done. Amen.

I cried. The sweetness and maturity of his request overwhelmed me.

Three weeks later I got a phone call. The adoption fell through because "there was too much puppy in her." After our last two geriatric rescue dogs came to us and then basically died we were really up for "too much puppy." Yes! We still want Vanna White!

And the rest is history.

So this week I celebrated her one year anniversary by taking her for her annual check up and buying her a new, gigantic blue collar . And this is where this blog post really gets long winded.

I know I mentioned our beloved Hindu veterinarian in the blog before. Oh ladies! I would run away with this man in a minute if he asked. Yes, sisters. Me! A Bible thumping, fundamentalist Christian woman and a Hindu vet!, No, that's an exaggeration. First I would make arrangements for my children and then I would run away with him.

This is the kind of man you only meet on the mission field or at a PETA convention. He is THAT special. Last year when he left the practice and went on a "spiritual pilgrimage" in India I was incredulous, though. The nerve! Isn't the adoration of every four legged creature in the county and their human slaves enough fulfillment for you, Dr. Gandhi? Apparently not.

I was so grateful when he returned to work sporting a new holy man hair-do, i.e., shaved head with teeny pony tail. Oh! He was totally smokin'!

In a completely Hindu holy man kind of way, that is.

It was during this phase that he asked me one day, "Have you acquired this over time or is this something you were born with?" Once I determined he wasn't referring to my dingle dangle arms or turkey neck I asked him, "born with what? " "Patience," he replied. "Have you acquired this over time or were you born with it?" I figured he was referring to my laissez- faire attitude while my children were destroying his office. But then when he likened me to Mother Theresa I totally lost it.

BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Dude! You've spent too much time under the Bodhi-tree while in India. You probably should have applied sunscreen to your shaved head. And Mother Theresa? I adore her but come on! Could you get any more wrinkled?

Obviously too much transcendental mediation can make you delusional.

I still love him , however, which is why I was horrified when I called to make Vanna'a appointment this week. "Dr. Ghandi has taken a leave of absence."

"WHAT! Oh come on! Please tell me he's not on another blasted spiritual pilgrimage in India?"

"Um...no...he had a family emergency."

Well. Thank God for that.

So my vet replacement choices are:

Dr. HamilTAN

or:

Dr. GrumpyLUSH

Groan. You've got to be kidding. Ok. I'll take Dr.GrumpyLUSH.

"I'm sorry. Dr. GrumpyLUSH doesn't work on Thursdays.

Ok. Ok. I'll take Dr. HamilTAN if I have to. Dawg! I must be desperate.

Uh oh. Did I just say that out loud?

"That's ok." muffled laughter. "I'd be happy to give you an appointment with Dr. HamilTAN."

Apparently I did just say that out loud.

I've lived in the tropics most of my life other than an idyllic few yeas in Oregon running wild in the redwood forests, being pecked on the head by blue jays the size of ospreys, eating blackberries and climbing cherry trees. Which means I've been here long enough to be entirely suspicious of anyone with a FAKE tanning booth tan. Not to mention that when Dr. Gandhi was on his pilgrimage in India Dr. HamilTAN charged me almost $300.00 for my decrepit poodles' ear infection to Dr. Gandhi's usual charge of $40.00.

Which bring me to the entire Vanna White is too skinny thing. When Vanna arrived a year ago she only weighed 75 lbs. This week she weighs 88 lbs but Dr. HamilTAN wants her to beef up to 97 lbs. In one month.

Here's a suggestion Dr. HamilTAN: maybe you should wear a helmet along with your protective eye goggles the next time you're in the tanning booth? I think you've fried a few too many neurons.

And then he has the audacity to say I should NEVER crate Vanna while I am at work as I will "have behavior problems in the future." Tan man! Brasilia's husband the Flying Dutchman just hauled my sofa to the dump because Vanna mistook it for her personal port-o-let. You wanna talk behavior problems? I dare you.

Paging Dr. Gandhi. Dr. Gandhi. You have a call at the front desk.

Oh, where is my handsome, hairless guru when I need him?

Well, in summary...Happy adoption anniversary, Vanna White.You are perfect just as you are and we love you.

And you have my blessing if you want to eat Dr. HamilTAN. I will warn you, however. He is well done.

I know you like your steak rare.