Dear Daisy Dog
Winnie, my 65-pound Lab-setter mix, got tangled in the net lights that cover my bushes during the holidays. She struggled to free herself, but the wire net did not break, and she became trapped.
By the time I got to her, her head and all four legs were ensnared by the net. Please warn people about this holiday hazard.
Thanks for the warning. I was about to leap into the neighbor’s sea of lights, but now I realize what a mistake that would be.
Clearly, I have a lot to learn.
You see, this is my first column. Mom asked me to take over the Daisy Dog pen name from Molly, who died at age 14.
My name is Annie, and I am a 5-year-old English setter.
Until recently, I lived in a kennel, without socialization or training.
During the last 18 months of my kennel life, I suffered from untreated demodectic mange. Pus and blood oozed from my hairless skin, and my ears were so badly infected that I couldn’t hear a thing.
During the summer of 2005, I joined my current family and moved into a house for the first time. Initially, I was afraid of people, dogs, cats and even toys.
I wasn’t house trained, and I didn’t understand such simple commands as “sit” or “come.”
With medical care, socialization and training, I am beginning to feel energetic and self-confident.
Everyone agrees that I am intelligent, affectionate and eager to please.
I feel honored to accept the pen name “Daisy Dog,” and I vow to do my best to answer your questions about canine health care.
Just don’t expect me to be the lady Molly was.