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Gill and The Pig are currently in the same boat. They are both ‘between jobs’. Gill will be leaving her current job at the end of the month to go on to something different and more highly paid. Alas, The Pig has been booted from her status as ‘therapy dog in waiting’ to ‘out-of-luck has been’. She didn’t even get to sign her paw print to official documents. She certainly didn’t have time to sign up for medical insurance or benefits (liver treats).

Since her bout with cancer, the vet advised against giving The Pig another rabies shot this year. It might compromise her already compromised immune system. The last shot she had is still effective enough to protect her against rabies, but apparently not current enough for the St. John’s group to allow her to  be on their roster of helper dogs. Pity. She has the perfect docile personality to make a wonderful therapy hound. And she has recently added smiling to her repertoire of C.V.’ must haves’  — usually to cover a misdeed she’s done while I was out of the house. It is a toothy grin, easily confused with a gas pain smirk or, as Gill believes, a stroke face. All of which leads me to believe if anyone needed a job, it’s The Pig. She’s bored. Despite my kind offer to redo her C.V. to make her more marketable, she declined.  She has some admirable qualities that a prospective employee would relish but it’s all in the spin. She knows how to deal with people (manipulative), she is quick to praise (licking you with ‘poison dog lips’ after wiping her butt), and thinks of others (‘where is Grandma so I can raid the garbage?’). A catch of an employee, I’m sure you’d agree.

L’il Sis was crushed on her behalf. Truth be told, although The Pig loves an adventure and meeting new people (not to mention a whole new set of adoring human supplicants), I suspect she’s just as happy napping, raiding the aforementioned garbage, and going for walks to hunt rabbits every day. I mean, spiffing up your suit, putting your best paw forward, day after day, could be a drag for any diva — especially The Pig.

As for Gill, she  didn’t get fired. She quit — after being headhunted. A fine feather in her professional cap, I’d say. But she too is bored during these final days with her current employer. As she points out, if she’s bored and has nothing to do, she causes trouble. Did in high school; still does. So rather than set her loose on her unsuspecting colleagues, the powers that be have had her writing obits. For live people. In anticipation of their demise. I don’t know how I’d feel to know that someone was trying to give me the bum’s rush out of this world. Then again, I guess famous people get used to that sort of thing. So Gill is creating, no doubt with great flourish, creative stories to usher people out. I just hope she doesn’t reference her parakeet’s recent funeral with its collection of pennies for his toll to cross the River Styx. She just might if she’s in the right mood that day. Well, she’s already quit…not much more they can do to her. Unless they already have the little men in white suits brandishing nets ON CALL.

The Pig seems to have taken her own exclusion in her stride.

Gill will be too busy finding a new flat, moving out of London, making new friends and establishing a new life to think about her particular loss. Of course, since she will be between paycheques for a month, she will feel a loss in her bank account. I’m expecting an emergency call to The Bank of Mom any day now. That’s okay. Financial stability is highly overrated .

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