Trippie Redd

I look down at my phone to see my youngest is Facetiming me. 

I am most certainly not a willing Facetimer.

I have no issues with technology; I just come from a generation of women who would rather not take pictures of or see themselves via a phone chat...anybody else?

My kids know this about me...so my anxiety immediately kicks in.

What the heck.

"Mama, don't be mad at me." 

Has any conversation between a kid and her mama ever started off well like that?

My mind starts racing assuming she's had a fender bender of some sort...she's Facetiming me so I know she's ok...but she's had her license since right before the pandemic, and it's all I can do to keep my brain busy whenever she drives out of the driveway.

"What is it??" I asked, probably a little too aggressively.

"Mama, I found a puppy."

He was all by himself, and he looks really hungry and like he needs help."

The kid goes 10 miles to deliver a school binder to a friend and somehow/someway, of course, finds a puppy.

"Honey, you're in a neighborhood area, so he probably belongs to someone...just come on back home...I'm sure he'll be fine."

She scrolls the camera around so that I can see said needy puppy already sitting in the backseat of her car.

"Mom, I saw him when I was on my way to Jill's house, and I told myself that if he was still there on the way back home, I would pick him up."

"He was still there."

I take a deep breath at this point because I realize she didn't really call me for advice; she called me to give me advanced warning that she was bringing a homeless puppy to our home.

And, of course, she's expecting me to pave the way with her daddy.

I can see in the picture that the puppy has skin issues...leave it to my kid to pick up a puppy with skin issues...I'm envisioning the "breakouts" we had from time to time at the animal shelters we used to volunteer for...

How am I going to get us out of this?

I put on my shoes and meet her in the driveway so that we can take this puppy to the vet straightaway...my plan: let vet take care of puppy; I'll figure out a way to pay for it.

Thank you kindly.

Curbside vet is quite an interesting concept...makes it really easy for the vet to tell me that they don't really have space for him due to the same concerns I have about bringing him into our home.  

Of course they don't.

Good news, however!

Homeless puppy only has worms and a skin condition that is, in fact, NOT contagious.

He will need to be treated fairly easily but it will take time for his hair to grow back healthy.

I'm adding up how much this is going to cost me in my head...how much is boarding per day + administering medication, etc. Are there any other vets that will take him?

The vet says, "I'm sorry we can't just keep him for you; I guess you could just take him to the animal shelter."

Um, no, I guess we can't. 

After several phone calls and exasperated conversations with friends in animal rescue who are, by the way, even more exhausted than they usually are right now, I realize that this puppy is coming home with us.

I can't justify the amount of money I will have to fork over just to make my life more convenient. 

These are crazy times; I'm trying to be a better budgeter...I have to be prepared for emergencies, as well as taking care of all of the souls (canine, feline, and human) that already live in our house.  I am an able bodied human being, we are in a pandemic, and I am trying to teach compassion, kindness, and justice to my kids (not to mention the rest of the world).

The vet swipes my card for almost $300, hands me a bag of medicine, instructions, and says, "See you in two weeks :) "

Homeless puppy is now named Trippie Redd.

"You mean like 'Trip'," I ask my daughter?

"No, Trippie Redd," she says.

"Aww, don't you remember the little kitty stories about Skippy John Jones?  That would be so cute! "Trippie John Jones. :) 

"No, Mom, not Trip, and definitely not Trippy John Jones."  She's rolling her eyes at me now.

"His name is Trippie Redd."

Trippie Redd's namesake

😎

Millenials are gonna save us all, y'all.

Not even kidding.

Oy.