I heard about something on the NPR Radio when I was driving with my Omi the other night and I decided I needed a cancer therapy dog of my own. The show was almost over and I didn't really hear too much except that the dog was named Leo, and I decided he needed to come here to cheer me up.    My little shopping spree yesterday wasn't to well received by my Dad when he found out about it.


"Daisy Girl", Grammie told me, "when you borrow your Dad's AmEx card and go on a shopping spree, you might want to NOT tell millions of people about it, cause one of them is going to be your very own Dad".   Oh that Grammie.     She is so set in her ways.

Anyway, I asked my Gram to find me a cancer therapy dog of my own and she said I already had one.  Named Bob. 

Our Bob?    When Bob comes racing into our home with his panties all in a bunch about something wonderful he discovered in the woods (like yet another dead frog), he makes The Princess think about bulls in china shops or some other ridiculous carrying on.    Most of the time Bob is just too stupid for words and he makes me laugh.  My Gram seems bent on pulling this one off, and she says that she heard the NPR story (which in case you might not know, but of course you do, stands for National Public Radio).   The dog, it seems, was a PitBull just like Bob except that he was rescued from a horrible life being owned by Michael Vick.     His name was Leo and his trainer, Mathina McClay was on NPR talking to Scott Simon.

My Grammie and I try not to take too many "stands".     That means talking about things that other people get into arguments about.     But since everyone knows we have Bob - he is, much as I hate to tell you, the Bob of Bob & Daisy - then it follows that everyone knows Bob is a PitBull.    PitBull's as everyone also knows about, get a bad reputation for doing nothing except being alive.   That is terrible.    Even though Bob is stupid he has a wonderful reputation and I would never, ever in a million, bazillion years let anyone talk badly about my Bob.   I can handle that all by myself, Thank You.

So the point is Bob really does make me laugh, and the ability to make people laugh, and smile, and feel better is what cancer therapy dogs do.  Every day.    And they get special training to do that.      Just think, Bob was born making us smile and be happy.   We didn't even have to train him.    Not that we didn't try, believe me.

So Leo was rescued from Michael Vick at his horrible kennel place where they made PitBulls do things the dogs didn't really want to do.  That is the thing that people might argue about.    Some people just don't know (and this is the part that was on the radio story) that PitBulls, as a breed, are just born happy.    All they want to do is make their human person happy also.     And just like Bob, most of them suceed.    But some, like Leo, get into a bad place and need helping out.

So Ms. McClay rescued Leo and re-trained him to do nothing more than be himself. Evidently he has a fine sense of humor, just like Bob.    It took her only five weeks to change his lack of social skills into good manners, and you know how I feel about manners.    The Princess, me - Daisy,  feels that every dog needs them, and I would happily give a short course on etiquette should you ask. 

Back to Leo.    So with positive re-inforcement training, Leo now goes to cancer wards in hospitals and does his magic working.    Do you want to hear about Leo?  Then have your MousePerson take you to: National Public Radio with Scott Simon and turn up your sound machine.

So Gram says that Bob can be my very own therapy dog.      Now I have Dr. Tyrrell to take my pulse, Miss Jewell to give me Reiki and Bob to make me smile.

Life is good.

My tumor is bound to fly away to outer space and explode any day now and as long as there are dead frogs in the woods for Bob to roll in, I have something to smile about.

Love,

Daisy
  

                                           

This is our boy......getting ready to spin himself off into Outer Space ------------if you are hanging out with any dead frogs you had better get out of the way.
But just in case any of you have forgotten just how beautiful Bob is when he is resting, please look no further.  This is our boy.   This is a PitBull.