You may remember, from the early days of my time with sweet Bessie, my concern about her possibly being a pit bull cross. Then (as now) I acknowledged my flaw of being breed-phobic. I also told you that my mother bought me a doggy DNA kit (from a company appropriately called Embark), to find out if my concerns were warranted. The results arrived today, far too late to make a difference, but fascinating nonetheless.
Not a trace of the lab that the rescue guessed. By the way, Staffordshire is another breed I don’t trust. I was very surprised by the husky relation, but when I looked at dogs with nearly identical breed percentages, they resembled Bessie remarkably. And Molly pointed out that, though Bessie’s coloration isn’t husky, her head-shape is similar.
Check this out: a possible snapshot of Bessie’s lineage.
That might be too small for you to see. If so, you can go here and check out the “Family Tree“ tab.
I wrote to Bessie’s new parents almost a week ago and never heard back. I’ll leave them alone now, even though they promised to keep in touch and send pictures. I just hope Bessie is happy and stable. I won’t ever forget her.
In other news, in a number of states (including Arizona, Florida, Texas, California), coronavirus numbers are spiking. I’ve been so careful for the past three months, but because many others haven’t, we continue our shelter-in-place. I completely understand everyone’s desire to move the hell past this, but it’s still too bloody early. Encouraged by the Administration’s denial of the advice of Dr. Fauci and other experts, selfish-dick-Trump-followers and others aren’t taking the necessary precautions. Because of them, I can’t see my mother or my pregnant older daughter or my beloved grandkids in Chico. I am resentful. Actually, I am irate. I can’t even imagine how I’d feel if my life were actually touched by the virus. Imagine if I’d lost someone. Someone who might not have died if the U.S. government had done so many things differently, and sooner.
Everything annoys me these days, politically and personally. We have a mask requirement here now, but people disregard it. On my walk yesterday, I encountered—count them—six people walking up the busy commercial street, arms swinging by their sides, masks in their bloody hands. And a number of others walking by me with masks around their necks. I wonder, sometimes, why I bother protecting them when they don’t reciprocate.
Better stop writing before I continue snarking.
That family tree is fascinating! I so wonder what her early life story was.