Really, Universe?

I do not wish that Dorothy had fleas.  Nor do I wish that she had kennel cough.  Or ticks.  Or a yeasty ear.  But I found myself wishing for any of these afflictions over the one she did seem to have, as I stared horrified at a reclining Dorothy on Monday, who was letting me scratch her belly and thus also exhibiting what was unmistakably – UNMISTAKABLY – warts on her privates.

“Dorothy!” I exclaimed.  “What have you been doing while I’ve been at work?!”  I had been pretty sure that her days were spent curled into a comfy circle in her crate, but now I was beginning to picture less solitary activities—visits by thuggish Boxer friends, say, or one of the amorous little French bulldogs that saunter about the park, or perhaps that prickly terrier friend Iggy who had a bit of a leer when he looked at Dorothy.

At any rate, it was clear that my little innocent 4 month-olde Dorothy had a bit of a health issue, so back to the vet we went!

And I was right.  Miss Dorothy has canine papilloma virus, which seems to be making its way around the dog population of Philadelphia—no doubt as a result of too much abstinence-only sex-ed, and not enough funding given to Planned Parenthood.  :)  Dorothy got to see her beloved Dr. Dominic, and Dr. Dominic and Tara, the vet tech, got to make a lot of jokes about the ribald behavior Dorothy must have been engaging in, in order to contract her CPV. 

The good news is that it generally goes away on its own accord, without the vet having to burn off the offending lesions.  I’m just to make sure that Dorothy doesn’t worry the area too much, and so far she has not been.  And next time I am giving Dorothy a belly rub, maybe I’ll squint my eyes or take off my glasses so that if some other horror is perching on her person, I – o ignorance is bliss – well I simply won’t know.

Dorothy would like some privacy, please.