Off to the dentist!

Today I took Rosie to get her teeth cleaned by a group that specializes in cleaning canine teeth without anesthesia. (www.petdentalservices.com) This is Rosie's second time. My vet, Linda Powers, brings a specially trained dental technician to her veterinary clinic a couple of times a year. All day long, owners bring their dogs to have their pearly whites scraped and polished, all without anesthesia! Dogs who have serious dental problems or who are the snarly type are not candidates for this service, Dr. Powers stresses. Rosie sits quietly and lets the tech do the job, then lands a "Good dog!" or "Sweet dog!" on her chart. I'm so proud of her. I purchased some doggie toothpaste, salmon-flavored, and a little kid's super soft toothbrush for continued dental care at home. The importance of dog tooth care is right up there with keeping our own teeth healthy. While I was dropping Rosie off, I visited with the other dogs coming for a cleaning: Sterling, a 7-year-old black Lab therapy dog who planted a big wet kiss on my face and whose tail thumped hard against the floor whenever I said his name; Emmie, a shy and dainty 9-year-old Sheltie who stared me down and finally let me pet her; and Rooney, a wiry terrier mix who was only too happy to introduce himself to me. He practically jumped in my lap. What fun! And while I was there, Sterling's owner, Kathy, bought my book, My Name is Rosie, and felt especially pleased because she got to meet Rosie! Anyone can purchase Rosie's book online at www.mynameisrosie.com. I told Kathy to read this blog and she'd find herself and Sterling in it. I had to pull myself away from the dogs to get to a yoga class. On my way there, I passed an outdoor cafe in Shell Beach where a man and woman were seated with two dogs - a big black Newfoundland and a Corgi! Of course I had to stop and introduce myself to the Corgi, another Pembroke Welsh Corgi like Rosie. I asked his name and Karen, his owner, told me "Jones." Interesting origin, that name. Karen's husband's family is Welsh and many are Joneses! So it seemed fitting. What a love, that Jones. He sat and smiled at me and let me pet his head - the kind of pet where you cup the dog's face in your hands and push the ears back - that kind of pet. He loved it. If I stopped to pet Raider, the Newf, Jones would let out a little woof as if to say, "Hey, you were petting me!" I can't tell you how much I love running into dogs, learning their names, and talking with their people about them.