Charlie, our one and a half year old corgi has come into heat again. We want to breed her so I haven’t had her fixed, but it means that every six months she dribbles blood everywhere for a few weeks. My ever practical sister-in-law put doggie diapers on her female lab when she came into heat. I didn’t even know they made doggie diapers. We were over at their house for dinner one night and when I saw her dog running around with underwear on I thought her young daughter had been playing dress up. Then my sister-in-law whipped the underwear thing off in a practiced gesture before putting the dog outside. “Gross, is that blood?” I asked, pointing at the diaper. “She’s in heat,” my sister-in-law explained, as if I were a complete idiot. “But she can’t pee with this on so I have to take it off every time I put her outside.” She was peering out the window. “Now what?” I asked. “Making sure the neighborhood dogs don’t get to her. With my luck the bassett hound would be the father,” she replied darkly.
That was my introduction to doggie diapers. I hadn’t ever had a female dog before, since I was a kid anyway, and I can’t remember what we did when she came into heat. I think we put her in the kennel. But now we have a female and as we want her to experience a bit of life before becoming a mother, this is her second heat. The first time I ignored the pleas of my husband and kids to buy doggie diapers. I mean, she hardly bled, just little drops here and there. And we have wood floors mostly so it’s easy to clean up. There is no way as a pup she would have put up with something attached to her butt and it just offended my sensibilities somehow. But it was late spring and we could leave her outside quite a bit. Now it’s November, wet and cold, and it isn’t as easy to ignore when she jumps into your lap and leaves a red smear of blood. The kids won’t let her on their beds all of a sudden. She can’t understand their lack of affection, and thinks she’s done something wrong. So she rolls onto her back for her favorite tummy rubbing position, hoping her submissiveness will attract some pity and flashing her nether region in the process. The kids cry out in disgust, turning from her. Poor baby.
So yesterday I went to the store for diapers, at my youngest daughter’s insistence. The cashier at the high end pet store where I buy dog food looked at me in haughty disdain when I asked if they sold doggie diapers. “Petco probably has them,” I muttered to myself as I left, carrying cases of food more expensive than my own dinner probably. But Petco isn’t exactly near my house so when I went to my local grocery store I just bought a pack of regular diapers in her weight range, thinking they should work. Since I’m at this store nearly every afternoon when it’s time to think about what to cook for dinner (I’ve never mastered the shop for the week concept), all of the cashiers and baggers know me, as well as my various offspring. When the cashier started ringing up my items and came to the pack of diapers he barely hesitated, but I could tell he was burning with curiosity. The bagger wasn’t so subtle, gazing at me in shock, his hand frozen on the pack of Huggies. “Oh for god’s sakes, I didn’t have a baby,” I said grouchily. “They’re for my dog. She’s in heat.”
When I got home my daughter and I tried to wrangle Charlie into one, but it didn’t fit, it was too small. I hated to throw a whole pack of diapers out so the next day when I went to the store for dinner stuff, I took them with me, hoping to return them. This time a different cashier was working. I explained the situation and he only gave me half the money back, since they were open and he couldn’t put them back on the shelves. “They’re not for me,” I offered. “None of my business,” he said. “My dog is in heat,” I explained to the bagger. “I can help you with these bags,” he said, avoiding my eye. “Thanks,” I sighed, giving up. I unlocked the car and as he placed the bags on the back seat he said, “You’re a regular customer. He should have given you a full refund.” I might have another opportunity to return them because even the size 3 Huggies didn’t fit Charlie, if I decide ten bucks is worth the mockery. Either way, I’m off to Petco tomorrow.
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