Tomorrow Is D-Day For My Puppy's Genitalia

My husband and I are, admittedly, a little on edge about the surgery. What if they snip something they're not supposed to and she is paralyzed for life, or dies? Look at this face!

It's a routine procedure. They do these all the time. They've already done blood tests to make sure she won't have an allergic reaction to anesthesia or pain-killers. . . but what if they fake her death and steal her because she's so adorable?

I've gotten weird about Truffles. Someone said to me, as she was jumping up excitedly on his shin trying to get his attention, "you should get a trainer." I wanted to backhand him. Truffles is perfect! I told someone else that she wakes us up at 5:30 in the morning and they said "that's horrible," and in my head I retorted "Your face is horrible!"

We were sort of in a rush to get little Truffles Corgstein fixed, but the vet kept slowing us down, trying to wait for that 6-month sweet spot. She hasn't gone into heat yet, which is good, but she's closer to being fully developed. We were in a rush because my friend kept telling me horror stories about what it's like when a dog gets her period. She encouraged me to hurry up because Truffles has long hair, it'll be a mess, it'll get all over the floor and the furniture, and could last for up to three weeks. My husband has been obsessing over it and for the past month and a half, has asked me every other day or so whether or not I think Truffles is going to get her period before we get her bits fixed.

"It'll be disgusting. What if she gets it tomorrow?"
"She won't."
"How do you know?
"She won't go into heat. She's just a baby."
"She could start bleeding any minute. What will you do?"
"What will you do?"

At times, I felt like he was on the verge of asking me if women have that thing dogs have where you can smell it if she's menstruating. We spend a lot of time thinking about whether Truffles will like something, what she's thinking, and whether we should take her somewhere that she might find entertaining. We're raising a high maintenance dog and attributing priss qualities that imply she has high standards, like protecting her from rain water because she doesn't like getting wet, like this:

However, she ate another dog's vomit at the dog park on Sunday. We remind ourselves of these occurrences to stem the tide of our own uncontrollable urges to personify her.

We feed her organic dog food because we think it's better for her and on Sunday, my husband almost gave her a nibble of a turkey hotdog that we were eating for lunch, but then decided that no, he would not give it to her because he didn't know what was in it. We were eating those!