- C
Varla Jean needs help,
I’m a cat kid -
Ive always had an affinity for their loner stink-eye, their tender, smirked independence and their celebrated ‘already had the cream’ arrogance.
Classic feline assholes with nothing to back it up but a penchant for fur balls and a taste for naps.
Who couldn’t relate.
Then I met Varla Jean, my first dog - our first daughter.
She jumped in Lindsay’s lap, gave her a kiss and curled up to rest as perfect strangers upon meeting, though my first impressions were that for a dog she was just a bit too small and like me a lil on the bitchy side.
That catty attitude of mine as anyone who has met my daughter can attest changed very quickly.
It took a grin a mile wide from the drivers side of an empty tanked sting ray on the dusty 90.
It took a gentle push of the all knowing sleeping paw to put me on the couch and her happily on my south side of the bed, next to Bubs dreaming of rotating bingo chickens wearing out the full spread of our duvet as her favorite dressing gown.
It took us coming home from to work to find the trash pulled through the living room and trailing to that very same bed where she sat paradoxically looking both sadly busted and happily guilty with a stained map to Vegas and a torn up empty box of wine.
It took her mother an ocean of lingerie safes to hide her panties which Varla would often find and tear happily through as a tasty treat and a just reward.. like father, like daughter.
& now at the ripe age of 6, she’s sick.
What started as a small pain treatment for a uti- yep, typical Varla in SF, has bloomed into (as is the current global surreality of the pandemic) a full blown case of internal bleeding, 106 degree fever and a minimum of 24 hour in-care hospitalization. This alone in 24 short hours has set us back upwards of 2k of borrowed money, and is skyrocketing by the hour.
Like many of you, we’re not working, not earning (small call for entertainers and nightlife in the current planetary lockdown). We’re in a new city, with a new vet, away from our family and friends, and stuck in a ‘save our daughter’ call to those who have met her or care.
We realize of course everyone is suffering in these viral times and so please rather than take affront to our ask and without truly knowing our family pup, just ignore us and this plea -
we unconditionally get it- but to those that know us and our daughter, anything at all will be of the greatest prayer to getting her home to bed and me back on the couch.
Love any and always,
D&L Mancini xoxo
hashtag: pawprint emoji, eggplant, bandana, single red rose, blue heart & raised fist.
I’m a cat kid -
Ive always had an affinity for their loner stink-eye, their tender, smirked independence and their celebrated ‘already had the cream’ arrogance.
Classic feline assholes with nothing to back it up but a penchant for fur balls and a taste for naps.
Who couldn’t relate.
Then I met Varla Jean, my first dog - our first daughter.
She jumped in Lindsay’s lap, gave her a kiss and curled up to rest as perfect strangers upon meeting, though my first impressions were that for a dog she was just a bit too small and like me a lil on the bitchy side.
That catty attitude of mine as anyone who has met my daughter can attest changed very quickly.
It took a grin a mile wide from the drivers side of an empty tanked sting ray on the dusty 90.
It took a gentle push of the all knowing sleeping paw to put me on the couch and her happily on my south side of the bed, next to Bubs dreaming of rotating bingo chickens wearing out the full spread of our duvet as her favorite dressing gown.
It took us coming home from to work to find the trash pulled through the living room and trailing to that very same bed where she sat paradoxically looking both sadly busted and happily guilty with a stained map to Vegas and a torn up empty box of wine.
It took her mother an ocean of lingerie safes to hide her panties which Varla would often find and tear happily through as a tasty treat and a just reward.. like father, like daughter.
& now at the ripe age of 6, she’s sick.
What started as a small pain treatment for a uti- yep, typical Varla in SF, has bloomed into (as is the current global surreality of the pandemic) a full blown case of internal bleeding, 106 degree fever and a minimum of 24 hour in-care hospitalization. This alone in 24 short hours has set us back upwards of 2k of borrowed money, and is skyrocketing by the hour.
Like many of you, we’re not working, not earning (small call for entertainers and nightlife in the current planetary lockdown). We’re in a new city, with a new vet, away from our family and friends, and stuck in a ‘save our daughter’ call to those who have met her or care.
We realize of course everyone is suffering in these viral times and so please rather than take affront to our ask and without truly knowing our family pup, just ignore us and this plea -
we unconditionally get it- but to those that know us and our daughter, anything at all will be of the greatest prayer to getting her home to bed and me back on the couch.
Love any and always,
D&L Mancini xoxo
hashtag: pawprint emoji, eggplant, bandana, single red rose, blue heart & raised fist.