Wally Woes, Bat Mitzvahs and Moms

Wally After his ER visit. Is there anything sadder than a sick puppy?

Wally After his ER visit. Is there anything sadder than a sick puppy?

When I took our puppy Wally out of his crate last Friday morning, he let out a sharp yelp, as if I had stepped on his tail.  He crouched and gave me this look like, “Do something, Mom!”  I picked him up and carried him to the elevator and then outside the building to do his business.  At 6:40 AM, there weren’t many people on the street.  As soon as I put Wally down, he wouldn’t budge.  After a few seconds, he let out another yelp so loud that the doorman who was 100 feet away came running over to see what the problem was.  Poor little doggie took a couple steps, then yelped a third time.  I have decided there is almost no worse sound than a puppy screaming out in pain for no obvious reason.  He wasn’t making any progress on the bathroom situation and after studying him for a couple more minutes, I realized he was shivering.  It was 68 degrees outside already so I was knew it wasn’t the weather causing him to shake.

By 7:30 AM, I am usually on a train bound for work, but instead, I spent the morning at the Animal Emergency Room at East 62nd Street.  The vet there took Wally away for a physical exam.  Almost 45 minutes later, he took us back into a room (without Wally) and said, “I have good news and bad news.”  I felt my pulse beat out of my head as he explained that he couldn’t find anything wrong with Wally upon his examination.  I waited for the horrible bad news – that there was bad bloodwork results, or a bone was in the wrong place, or he had some horrible disesase that only cavaliers get or something fatal.  But he never seemed to get to the “bad” part.  The vet finally finished speaking.  I told him to give us the “bad news,” and he said, “Oh, well that’s the bad news. We don’t know what it is.”

Jerk.

We then asked him how much Wally weighed (he was 13.5 lbs at his last vet visit several months earlier).  The vet had his weight in grams and then after using a calculator to convert it to pounds, was alarmed that the number was 12.1 lbs.  He advised us that this could be pretty significant problem and that we should definitely follow up with our vet.  He threw out terms like “cancer” or “internal organ deficiencies” and a bunch of other horrible scenarios.  We asked if Wally was ready to be discharged and the vet said he’d go get him. Twenty minutes passed and no Wally. I eventually had to ask one of the vet technicians to bring our dog back. 

When we got out of the hospital around 9:15 AM, Wally pooped and peed on the sidewalk – his first of the day.  We were relieved.  He started walking normally up the block. We got him in a taxi and back to our apartment.  I headed to work with a suitcase as I had a family bat mitzvah up in Connecticut on Saturday, and The Husband and Wally were meeting me at work, where I’d rent a car to drive out to my sister’s for the night and attend the bat mitzvah the following morning.  An hour after I left for work, The Husband called to report that Wally was still yelping and not moving.  We called his breeder (who offered to come watch Wally for the weekend so we could attend the family party).  We called the place that was supposed to watch Wally (the breeder there gave us a bunch of helpful advice and recommended giving Wally a baby aspirin).  I called Wally’s regular vet and explained the problem.  He gave him a prescription for a pain killer.  The Husband was in a panic.  So was I. How could we leave our little baby puppy when he needed us the most?

I picked up the rental car and drove directly home after work.  We nursed Wally for the night and at 8 AM Saturday morning, I was on the road, headed back to CT while The Husband stayed behind with Wally.  They went to the vet who discovered some back pain on Wally. They did an x-ray. No broken bones. They weighted him – 15 lbs, 11 oz!! Guess that ER vet didn’t know his math.  And worse – he made us panic that our dog could have some horrible disease based on a miscalculation of his weight.  Wally’s regular vet believed it was a back muscle issue and that rest, pain killers and some TLC would resolve it in a week or so. 

What a relief.

I got the news at the bat mitzvah reception. To celebrate, I ate pigs in a blanket, sushi, chicken piccata, a Heath bar cupcake, chicken fingers, french fries and a Diet Coke to balance it out. YUM.  Hit major traffic on the way home, so in total, I did 5.5 hours of driving in one day including 30 minutes of looking for a parking spot once I got back into Manhattan.  Owning a car in New York City is absurdly stressful unless you’ve won the lottery and can have someone drive you around.

On Sunday, Wally seemed a bit better (he was walking finally without yelping), so we drove up to my parents’ house for Mother’s Day.  It was the first time we took Wally off the leash and let him run around the backyard.  He seemed almost back to normal, but by night, he was moving slowly again.  I’m crossing my fingers that he improves each day.  My mother was wonderful and made French Toast and Hot Lox for a stressed out Husband.  She gave Wally an early birthday present – a plush squirrel toy.  She also got me a present – for my first mother’s day as a doggie mama. Anyone who says that having a dog does not qualify you as a mother should spent 72 hours with a sick puppy. 

Anyhow, glad that it’s finally a work day.  I need some calm time.

Another crazy week is brewing here. Less than 2 weeks til Aruba and EXACTLY 2 weeks until The Bachelorette premiere. I can almost hear the limos rolling in for Des.

Grandpa and Wally on Mother's Day. He's looking better.

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Dancing With the Stars Tonight, Already an Insane Monday

Good thing we know Sean doesn’t like blondes…

This was the first Monday morning in a while where I woke up and didn’t have that Bachelor lining at the end of the day to look forward to.  Not sure Dancing With the Stars will fill the void, but I’ll give it a try.  Instead, from under the covers, I checked the weather and noticed we’re expecting another round of snow and freezing rain tonight.  Unable to change out of my bright pink, warm, fleece pajamas, I stumbled into the living room to grab all of Wally’s stuff to walk him – his coat,  my coat, his leash, my Ugg boots, hat, gloves,  etc.  When I approached Wally’s crate and unlatched the door, he just laid there, looking at me with those puppy eyes, which were saying, “Why the hell are you up this early and don’t you know it’s too cold to go outside right now?”

I couldn’t agree more.  He normally pounces out of that crate, but not today – it was not happening.  So after trying to coax him out a few more times, his eyes started closing.  I shut the door to the crate and hit the bathroom to shower.  Clothes off, standing in my bathroom naked, The Husband starts hollering that Wally is whining – he wants to go out.  Is this a joke?  No, so I grab the discarded pink pajamas on the floor, throw them back on, grab my winter coat, hat, gloves, Uggs, etc.  and take Wally out.   I got a few strange looks from pedestrians – that’s how cruel the Upper East Side can be.  Anyone wearing pink fleece pajamas pants is clearly an insane person – even if it’s 7:30 AM and you’re walking a dog.

When I got back inside, I was finally awake enough to question why The Husband couldn’t have taken him out.  He was obviously awake enough to notice Wally’s whining, but oh well.  Then The Husband says, “You know, you could have just dropped him off at daycare…maybe you can take him there on your way to work.”  He is great at making these sorts of suggestions. So back to the bathroom, I go.  I’m showered, hair dryer is going, dressed for work and make-up on.  Wally is jumping up on my leg.  He knows I’m getting ready to leave the apartment and he’s going nuts. 

I finish up and start packing up my things for work: a laptop with my work papers, a heavy purse, a huge shopping bag filled with 2 pairs of shoes I hope to return on my lunch break, a bag of old doggie clothing that Wally grew out of that we are donating to his doggie daycare and oh yeah – the dog himself.  So off we go to walk the 1.5 blocks to the daycare place.  As soon as I crossed the street, I ran into about 300 junior high school kids who attend the school across from our building.  There are green bagels everywhere on the sidewalk, which I assume were discarded from drunk St. Patrick’s Day participants from the day before.  Wally is darting for every single green bagel in sight and I’m holding him back while carrying my 400 bags.  The excitement must have gotten to him because he starts circling and I know where this is headed.  He squats and starts pooping in the midst of all these junior high kids.  They start pointing at him and going, “That dog is SHITTING!” followed by their gangster, hysterical laughter.  Others are going, “Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!” at Wally’s poop while I start fumbling to get the poopy bag out of its holder.  It’s stuck.  I can’t budge it.  I end up having to take the roll of bags out of the holder and manually pull one out.  Then I have the bag but can’t figure out which end is the “opening” and this takes another few seconds during which the junior high school kids are ruthless saying all sorts of crazy things about Wally’s poop.  You’d think they’d never seen a dog before or a dog that poops.  I thought about taking the poop bag and hurling it at them or just taunting them with it to shut them up. 

Poop discarded, bags reassembled on my body, we finished the walk down the block, manveuring around the hysterical kids, who I ignore.  We arrived at the daycare center, which has 3 wire gates on a bunch of stairs to get through before you can actually get inside.  Wally is pulling, my laptop gets stuck in a gate and I almost took the whole thing down.  Finally, finally, FINALLLY we are inside.  I hand over Wally and the bag of dog clothes.  I’m dripping sweat at this point.  Dressed for Antarctica.  That’s when I realized that I left my subway card at home.  Digging through my purse to find my phone, I call The Husband.  When he answers, I start screaming about what just happened with Wally pooping, me getting bullied by junior high kids, carrying all these bags and sweating and the stupid doggy daycare gates and then just start laughing. I ask if he can bring my subway card downstairs in the lobby of our building and he tells me he’s in the bathroom. 

I go home, get the card and recap the previous 7 minutes for The Husband.  Next time, he’s on doggie duty.  It’s already been a long Monday.  Can I go home yet?

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Motherhood & An Unusual Party

Wally & Me at the Party

Let me clarify, for anyone who’s confused about the title of this post, by saying that I do not currently have any human children.  Nor do I pretend that owning a dog is nearly as complicated and stressful as dealing with human babies, toddlers, children, teens and adult offspring.  I have a sister with four kids and hands down she takes the cake every time in the motherhood category.  Her stresses far exceed mine at the moment.   These days, we generally just worry about how to keep Wally from eating my underwear and how to afford our puppy’s vet bills.  Between the neutering, several bouts of diarrhea, ear mites and the need to empty his anal sacs (no good reason to elaborate on that last one), our little guy has tacked up quite a bill.  In fact, we may be our vet’s best customer.   I’m thinking of asking if they have a card that enables us to a free visit on our fifth time there in under 10 weeks.

The past few days have been especially hectic.  We think Wally ingested some feathers from our down mattress pad or a stuffed toy based on the unidentifiable feathery objects that came out with his poop over the weekend. NASTY.  The poor guy was crying every 2.5. hours around the clock begging to do his business outside or simply be comforted. The Husband and I took shifts on puppy bathroom duty, blocking the view of any pedestrians who may have been interested in what was coming out of Wally’s tush and judging us .  (Side note: it’s really tough to pick up wet poop from the sidewalk).

By Sunday morning, the poops had turned bloody (Apologies for the mental image).  Despite our multiple orders of Chinese food delivery to give Wally white rice and steamed chicken, the poops could not be improved.  So we found ourselves running to the vet yesterday.  Some medicine, scans and prescription dog food purchased, we debated on whether to keep Wally home for the afternoon.  But one look at his puppy face told me that he could use a little pick me up.  Fortunately, we had the perfect thing in mind…

A few weeks ago, we received an invitation to a doggie birthday party thrown by a former work  colleague of mine.  The invitation arrived by email and was directed to Wally.  The party was to be at a doggy daycare / grooming facility on the Upper West Side and was in honor of Daisy, another cavalier king charles spaniel female, who was turning 1.  The invitation specifically stated “No Gifts, Just Licks,” and a private room was reserved for the occasion.  Fresh from the vet, meds administered, The Husband, Wally and I grabbed a taxi over to the West side trying to get one more poop out of him before he entered the party.  We walked him upstairs and immediately saw that this was unlike any birthday party that we had ever been to.  In a private rectangular room with glass walls all around stood about 20 or so dogs of all sizes and breeds along with their owners.

Me, Wally, The Hostess & Daisy the Birthday Girl

Normally when I go to birthday parties and don’t know anyone, it can be intimidating or awkward. But as Daisy’s mom pointed out to me at the party yesterday – “People who own dogs are usually pretty awesome,” which I have found to be very true.  Being dog parents, we all immediately had something in common to talk about.  Wally was not shy at all.  My little neutered puppy of 7.5 months went straight up to the birthday girl and started humping her with the utmost respect and devotion.  He didn’t realize that he had raging diarrhea.  He had no idea his balls were missing.  He followed Daisy around like a man on a mission and eventually she gave up and started lifting her hind legs for him to do as he pleased.  I kind of wondered why Hasbro hasn’t thought to make a toy dog based on My Little Pony, but calling it “My Horny Puppy.”  It would have the ability to cling onto small objects and hump away (with batteries of course), completely embarrassing its owner but kind of making them smile too.  Once Wally was done with Daisy, he went on to hump a number of other dogs.  I guess nobody has told him yet that he’s lacking some necessary equipment to get the job done.  It won’t be me.

It’s funny – the last few dinner parties I’ve been to with friends my own age have centered around the baby talk – potty training, day care vs. nanny, when to stop breast feeding, etc. I don’t mind the talk at all – it’s a normal part of where many of my friends are at these days, and I’m always trying to build up my knowledge base for down the road.   I guess the equivalent of this was our conversations regarding wee-wee pad trainings vs. crate training, which dog runs and parks we take the dogs to and what kind of training we’ve done with the dog.  Finally I had something to contribute!   It was a pretty awesome afternoon with a bunch of warm, friendly people.  And in case you’re wondering just what happens at a doggy birthday party – I’ll fill you in.  It’s a free-for-all with all the dogs running around, leash free in this room and sniffing each other.  Some hump (like Wally), some nap and some just chase each other around.  There was a delicious cake for humans as well as one that the hostess made from scratch for the dogs.  Wally also received his own doggie cookie favor on his way out.   The humans chit chat about their dogs, play with the other dogs around them and get licked a bunch.

We decided to walk home by crossing Central Park, our first long walk with Wally in a long time.  By the time we got to our apartment, Wally’s eyes were closing.  He hopped up on the couch and immediately fell into a long snooze by my feet.  When he woke up, hours later and The Husband took him out for a walk, he made his first solid poop in over 3 days.  I know this information, because The Husband texted me a picture of it on the sidewalk with a “He made a solid poop!” explanation.  Both of us had tears of joy at this news.  We need a life.  Good thing Bachelor is on later – Wally will probably be getting Chinese food once again for dinner and there’s nothing like a little bit of rice, chicken and Sean “Lowe Mein” when recovering from a hard Monday and the runs.

I’ll leave you with some additional pictures from yesterday’s birthday party:

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Wally’s Back!

Sleeping Wally, back from the vet

Our tired little puppy is snoring away on the couch right now – ball free and all stitched up.  We spent $12 for an “Elizabethan cone,” a plastic device that goes around his head to prevent scar licking.  What a sorry looking thing that is – we hope it doesn’t need to be used other than on a boring winter day when we decide to put on some Shakespearean theater in our living room (it will be a great prop for my thespian husband).

As expected, I was up all night before the surgery.  When the alarm went off at 5:45, I was ready to go.  We did a morning bathroom walk and instead of preparing his breakfast, I sent him straight in to wake up his daddy.  The Husband must have known who he was dealing with because he left a sign on Wally’s bowl that read “DO NOT FEED WALLY” as a reminder of no meals before surgery.  Such little faith.

I went off to work, lump in throat, and went about my day.  At 2 PM, The Husband called with an update: the surgery was done, Wally was recovering. There were no additional details available so I called the vet after work and grilled them, lawyer style.  There was some concern about the amount of time it took Wally to come off the anesthesia.  He’s now at 13 lbs and could stand to gain some weight.  They pulled a baby tooth.  They microchipped him.  They really discouraged us from visiting.

So we went for Mexican food to console ourselves last night.  Homemade guacamole and a large glass of sangria can better almost any situation. After, The Husband made me watch Die Hard for the first time by telling me it was “Christmas-y.”  I put on my Old Navy flannel pajamas, momentarily happy that there was no need for a midnight bathroom walk outside.  Then it hit me that something was very much missing.  I wanted my dog back.

I headed to the gym early today, fighting the New Year’s resolution crowd to the treadmill.  20 minutes into the run, I got a text from The Husband – the vet called and Wally was ready. I jumped off the treadmill, ran home, forced The Husband to stop watching some international hockey game so we could head to the vet.

The waiting area held about 5 dogs and their owners.  Saturdays are a popular time to go to the vet. We asked for Wally Wanicur and were told to wait with the others.  A kind couple offered to move down to make room for us to sit, but we were too anxious. A few minutes later the door opened and a vet tech came out, holding a leash with Wally tentatively taking steps forward, his head pointed down like he was shamed.  I got right down on the floor and moved to him on my knees.  Wally came darting at us, slightly whimpering, jumped into my arms and licked my face like he’d just gotten back from war.  I barely heard a word of the discharge instructions, I was too busy French kissing the dog.  Then the tears came and I knew it was time to leave.  Not sure I can set foot in that office again – I have officially lost it.

Wally has a 2 inch incision where his balls were yesterday morning.  He’s been sleeping on and off since we brought him back.  About an hour ago, he shifted positions and let out the loudest and longest whimpering cry I have ever heard him too.  This immediately sent me into tears.  I put my arms out and told him to come to me, which he did.  He’s been snuggled up in my lap ever since, so I’m typing now with the computer on my side.

I am sure Wally will be fine in a couple days with some rest, love and food.  I, on the other hand, am going to need electric shock therapy to recover from the past 48 hours.  :)

Thanks for all the love and support,

Stacey B

PS I joined Instagram (@Officestace) and am trying to figure it out, but if you want more Wally photos, link up with me there.  Or you can “Like” my Facebook page at: www.facebook.com/OfficeStace

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Going Balls Out

So long, farewell to my 2 best friends…

The moment is almost upon us.  Tomorrow this time, we will be minus two key members of our family.  I’m talking, of course, about Wally’s beloved testicles.  The thought of him going into surgery, getting drugged up and snipped is enough to make me bawl my eyes out.

Here’s what’s happening:

At 9 AM tomorrow, our 7 month old puppy will be handed over to the vet.  We leave him there, completely alone, and then we’re not supposed to come back until 10 AM Saturday to pick him up.  WHAT? You may ask.  Leave our little baby alone overnight in the vet hospital?  Shouldn’t we be allowed to visit and bring him flowers or a balloon?  Will someone feed him?  Is someone going to be there overnight in case he whimpers in pain or needs something?  And get this…they highly suggested that we do not come to visit.  They say he’ll be totally out of it from the medication and seeing us could stress him out or get him excited enough to want to lick or chew on his stitches.  STITCHES.  On his BALLS.  OUCH!!!  Why are we doing this?!?!?

The Husband keeps telling me it’s for the best.  The neutering is supposed to reduce certain hormonal annoying behaviors.  He was trying to cheer me up by saying that perhaps my horrible head colds this past fall were caused by allergies to Wally’s balls and that I’ll clear right up once they’re out of our lives.  I hope this is the case.  Still, his testicles were starting to cause some unwelcoming behaviors.  When we left him a couple weeks ago to go on vacation, the woman who boarded him initially only had wonderful things to say about Wally by e-mail.

“He’s handsome.  He’s gentle.  He’s really getting along with all the other dogs.”

We were so proud.  Then by the end of the week, I got a follow-up email:

“Wally is doing fine.  But he needs to be neutered.  He is humping every girl in sight.  He also needs training and I am attaching a training guide.”

Uh-oh.  Where did we go wrong? The doggy daycare lady told us he was marking everywhere.  They even put him in a diaper.  A doggy diaper.  Who knew such a thing existed?  So his hormones may in fact be getting the best of him.  BUT – does that merit mutilating his beautiful little body?  Won’t this ruin his potential for a show dog career?  A dog testicle modeling career? A doggie condom ad? What if he has dreams of being a dad one day?  Who are we to take that away from him?  The breeder recommended waiting as long as possible to make sure his growth plates were finished doing their thing (thus avoiding an overgrown, potentially overweight dog).   But when I explained some of Wally’s more recent behaviors, even the breeder agreed it was time to neuter him.  She loves Wally like her own, so I greatly trust her opinion.

This adorable, fluffy, big brown eyed love mush depends on us for all his needs.  He trusts us blindly.  Tomorrow he’ll pay the price – he’ll willingly walk out the door with us thinking it’s time to go potty outside, only to find it’s the most horrible bathroom break of all time.  The worst part is that the vet’s office is located directly next door to the doggy daycare that he is obsessed with.  This will only lead to major disappointment as he’ll think that he’s going to have a fun day with his buddies chasing after toys and napping only to learn that his balls are being chopped off.  Poor thing.

I wonder if we’re going to get his nuts back after the surgery to put in a jar of some sort, like baby teeth.  I also wonder if Wally will act like the same dog. Will he still poop proudly in the entrance of Pottery Barn Teen across the street as if to say, “Screw you, overpriced teenage furniture?”  Will he still want to lie on the couch all spread out and watch the puppy shows on Animal Planet?  Will he snuggle into my neck to get warm after our freezing cold morning walk?

I was almost in tears today when I saw him after work, knowing it’s our last night with our puppy Wally.  Tomorrow he will go through a doggy rite of passage.  I’d say he’ll become a man, only with 2 less testicles, he’s actually becoming less male-like.  I doubt they have dog literature encompassing such a theme, but they should.  If not for the dog, for the dog parents out there.  It’s nearly as traumatic for us.  I watch him sleeping now, at my side, a sweet, playful, trusting soul just wanting to learn, explore and please.  He’s part of our family.  I have a strong desire to love and protect him like any family member.   I hope he forgives us for what is about to happen to him.  The Husband must feel the same about Wally because he’s giving up the chance to go to the Redskins’ Sunday playoff game to be around for Wally’s recovery.  This is an earth-shattering break through.  A dog over NFL football?  It must be love.

Tonight, I made Wally what I thought was a gourmet meal.  He can’t eat after midnight, so I tried to make it extra special.  I combined his kibble, with some yogurt, sweet potato and some canned food.  He sniffed it, ate a tiny bit and decided he’d rather starve to death than eat a home cooked meal from his mother.  I figured he just wasn’t hungry (pre-surgical nerves?).  I was complaining to my mother on the phone that nobody likes my cooking – not even the dog – when The Husband presented a simple bowl of dry kibble to Wally instead of my masterpiece creation.  Wally devoured the dry kibble.  He liked it so much, that The Husband gave him an extra helping.  I’m going to need therapy.

For all you dog owners out there, any tips on post neutering recovery tips (for the dog and for the parents)?  Or words of wisdom?  We’re all ears and we could use the extra love and moral support.  Tomorrow at 10 AM, please have a moment of silence for some lost puppy balls.  We would greatly appreciate any well wishes for Wally in the comment section below.

Hold on to your balls a little tighter today or give your loved one’s balls an extra tender squeeze in honor of Wally. We’ll update you on the flip side.  I’ve got to go cry into a pillow now and rock Wally to sleep.

Feel free to “share” this post with any of your dog loving friends. We can use all the advice / support / love we can find.

Xoxo,

A Frightened Doggy Mama

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Look Who’s Applying to Compete on the Next Bachelorette…

I’m looking for some sweet bitches

With all these rumors of Bachelor related break-ups, we need our faith restored.  Are there really people out there who can make a relationship last from this process?  There have to be!  Without further ado, I give you the latest applicant for the next season of The Bachelorette… 

 I can’t contain this guy much longer.  After just one season of watching Bachelor Pad, he’s hooked on the show.  Not only hooked, but he’s now thinking he could blow away the competition as a contestant on the next Bachelorette series.  I told him that the show has never accepted a dog before and that The Bachelorette is probably looking for a human life partner, not the canine type.  But he won’t take “no” for an answer.  He says the guys that compete on this show are rarely looking for love.  The couples rarely last.   Wally claims that he solely exists to love and be loved.  He’s handsome.  Truly single.  And he wants to act fast before he’s neutered and loses his nerve. 

After meeting some of the female contestants from the show at the Central Park fundraiser last weekend, he’s got more motivation than ever. He is particularly crushing on Michelle Money and Ashley Spivey.  He claims that Ashley Hebert declared she was taking him home with her – and right in front of JP! How shocking!  Wally begged me not to reveal it, but he says that he French kissed Michelle Money.  He also thought Rachel Truehart was very pretty and hopes she may be the next Bachelorette. 

I couldn’t say “No” to him any longer, so I’ve mailed off his application.  If you think Wally will make a great contestant on The Bachelorette, be sure to let @BachelorCasting @Fleissmeister @ChrisBHarrison and @CassieLambert know on Twitter. 

Page 1 of Wally’s Bachelor Application

Oh – and in case you want to see what a puppy Cavalier King Charles Spaniel says on his Bachelor application, I’m posting it here.  The application calls for pictures too, so I’ve posted the ones he sent in with commentary.  You can click on the images to get a larger view.  Wish him luck:

Page 2 of Wally’s Bachelor Application

Mom loves Bob the Bachelor, so we had to say “hi” at a Central Park fundraiser recently. Not sure who his pretty friend is, but she loved me! Mom was embarrassed to be dressed in running clothes amongst the glamarous crowd, but I whispered in her ear that The Bachelor is all about inner beauty – NOT!

Ashley Spivey said she would certainly compete to be able to have a shot at my heart. Lisa has a crush on me and probably William does too.

  

Kirk is my brother from another mother. We’re both redheads.

 

Michelle Money. Oh boy! I hung this picture at the top of my crate and stare at it every night before bed. We shared a beautiful kiss. I will never forget her.

 

Ashley’s said she wanted to take me home with her. Don’t tell JP!

I’m great with kids. A future family man. Here I am with mom’s sister, Aunt Wendy, and my cousin Michael

Women can take me anywhere and I will listen to them with yearning and interest despite any distraction. Here I am brunching outside with my cousin Alex.

I love long walks on the beach and traveling. I’d sit on this train for hours and just cuddle with my love.

 

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