Heather Anne

Right before I left for London, I got some bad news about Scout the Beagle: she has some very bad heart problems. I was playing "Pack It" with Scout when I got the call from the vet. ("Pack It" involves me sticking something in my backpack, Scout pulling it out and offering it to one of the other pets, and, when met with their apathy, leaping off the bed and running through the house chewing my socks/shirts/shoes/whatever as I chase behind her trying not to use those negative conditioning words like "asshole.") The problems Scout has are treatable with a 90% effective rate. The drawbacks are: a) The medicine she'll need is a derivative of arsenic, which is always dangerous when injected into, you know, someone's veins. One in ten dogs do not survive treatment. And b) The process is very expensive.

Amy and I talked about it long and hard, and decided to go ahead with the treatment. The veterinary assistant called me about a dozen times to verify that yes, we were willing not to buy groceries for six months so that our dog could be treated. And yes, we knew that even with the monetary sacrifice, Scout might not live. And yes, we knew there was a chance the treatment could cause liver/kidney/heart failure. And that yes, Scout might have a very pronounced case of this disease; there is no way to tell because we'd only owned her for four days. One final point she wanted to clarify was: who, exactly, is Scout's owner?

See, Margaret is Margaret Baker, listed under Amy Baker, because she came to Amy's parents' house all those years ago, so Amy paid the first vet bill. Nala is Nala Hogan, listed under Heather Hogan, because she came to my office all those years ago, and I paid the first vet bill. Scout is listed under both our names, because she came to our house, and it's going to take both of our savings accounts to pay for these vet bills. I explained this to the veterinary assistant. Well okay, she said, but what would be Scout's last name?

In the first season of The L Word, when Bette and Tina are having a baby, Bette wants to combine her last name of "Porter" with Tina's last name of "Kennard" to give the baby a last name that represents them both. She comes up with "Portard." Tina, with a little foresight, says, "Bette, seriously? Hey, Portard, how's your two moms, you big gaymo?"

I've been calling the Beagle "Portard" for half the time she's lived with us, mostly because she looks like Portard should be her name when she's leaping through the house, limbs akimbo, ears in flight, my Victoria's Secret passport panties flapping in the wind like a kite from her mouth.

Amy and I invented the most awesome game in college that involved a net, four squares, and a tennis ball. We combined our last names "Hogan" and "Baker," calling it Bagan Ball, so we'd both get credit when the sport made it to the Summer Olympics. So that's the last name I gave our dog: Bagan.

Scout starts treatment on Monday, so send all your warmest wishes and energy her way.

I'll ask you to shower her with good thoughts again when she starts school. Margaret's middle name is Jo. (For Jo March.) Nala's middle name is Jane. (For Jane Austen.) Scout's middle name? Portard. Scout Portard Bagan. Heart problems will be nothing compared to the teasing this dog is going to get on the playground.