Just before Christmas, my animal-loving daughter Chloe moved back to L.A. from grad school in Connecticut. She brought her pet rabbit, Sweet Pea, with her on the plane, and moved in with her fiance, who was already living with their elderly cat, Ferdinand.
I was slightly annoyed when Chloe announced that she and Anton had taken in a hugely pregnant rescue dog, Laney, and they might not be able to participate in family holiday events, as the dog was on the verge of exploding with offspring. Also, the folks at Wags & Walks, the rescue they were working with, told her that Laney, in her pregnant state, might be "reactive" around other dogs.
Really? I thought. You're back in L.A. after 12 years in Berkeley, San Francisco and New Haven, and you'll be playing canine midwife instead of joining us for Christmas dinner?
