Limping Along

Literally for me, Casey (and figuratively for Mom!).
Hard to keep up when the paw hurts from running after the dang squirrel. Tried not to show it cuz it meant (da da da dum) a trip to see Dr. Susan.

I hope she doesn't take it personally--Dr. Susan, that is-- (I'm sure she's a person and not a vet outside of that terrible building)...I got prodded, stuck with a needle, poked in the back end (blush) and generally given the thrice over. And what did we find after all that??? Nothing. Nada. Nit. just a recommendation to 'take it easy' for a few days (read: no going to work for almost a week!) and take Rimadyl--and I've heard the horror stories but, lemme tell you, that little pill does wonders and helps the hurt.

So, we limp. Has absolutely nothing to do with having my 7th birthday last week (hooray Frosty Paws!). I'm just, well.... I say we blame it on the squirrel. Let's blame EVERYTHING on the squirrels (Mom seems to like that idea!!)

Routines

These are some of my routines.

Food:

Must be fixed right in front of me, properly mixed (recipe below), served enthusiastically. Preferences:

Put down by Mom with caress on head; Dad is next (his is always warmer and bigger).

Recipe:

1 cup high quality dry kibble (no wheat or corn or beef); heaping Tablespoon canned (chicken or lamb); heaping Tablespoon low fat yogurt; serious splash of chicken juice (homemade is best, no salt); hot water to form gravy. Additions from leftovers always welcome. (I also think Mom sneaks in some sort of pill but she hides it well).

Fed morning and evening about the same time (walk before in morning, walk after in evening). Server cannot put down food and walk away--that's just rude.

Cookies:

I know to politely sit and gently take from the hand feeding me. Manners are important. If necessary will "sit up pretty", "wave", "lay down" and (sigh) "roll over". We do what we must.

Note: the more cookies, the better the day!

Bed:

The second most important part of the day (after food). Must go to bed at 9 pm (doesn't matter if it's regular time or daylight savings time, by the way.)

Drive Thru Bank Tellers

We used to do the ATM thing. Anytime we needed some of the 'green stuff', as Mom calls it, we'd drive up to this machine, talk to it nicely, and then came the green stuff. I wasn't impressed--I always, of course, enjoy the car ride.

But there's this really cool new thing--Mom calls it a Drive Thru Bank Teller. What a great invention and somebody should have thought of this a long time ago! It means a car ride and, no matter what the weather, the back window goes down so I can see Mom (and Dad sometimes) talking to the person about my cookies. I mean, that must be what they're talking about since, after they send something thru this really strange metal drawer, a cookie comes out. For me!

Which brings up all kind of ideas. Drive Thru Grocery Stores. Drive Thru Shoe Shopping. Drive Thru Target (Mom would really like that one). Heck, why not just do everything Drive Thru and, that way, I always get cookies and always get to be with the P's and always get to have the back window down.

Look out...it's about to become a drive thru world!

Spring.

I'm shedding. Not a lot ... yet. But I can tell. Shedding means...SPRING!

Another thing: I got to go swimming. In March. In early March. Wow. Dad took me out to the point in Harness Creek and, well, the water was pretty cold. But it was (Dad says) 70 degrees on March the 8th and it was ok for a short distance. Wow. Swimming. Cool.

And then there was the bath. Please don't spread this around but, boy, did it feel good to get all that grimey winter stuff off my fur, my skin, my paws. It's like I'm all light and fluffy and springy again.

Ice Cream. Mom took me for Ice Cream after the swim, after the bath, after the rub-down-after-the-bath. Yup. Spring. I'm loving it!

Sleep.

I sleep a lot. I mean, I really enjoy sleeping a lot. A lot of sleeping is, my way of thinking, a good thing. Yawn.

Why does everyone rush out of bed in the morning? Just lay down and enjoy the snooze and snuggle. Maybe a belly or chest rub is a good thing, too. And a stretch every now and again. But the snooze is the thing. What's the rush to throw off the covers out of the comfortable snuggle?

Then there's sleeping in the office. Why doesn't Mom join me on the floor, up against the wall, for a mid-day sleep? I admit, this is not as much of a sleep as it is a resting of the eyes, body, mind. Gotta keep some sort of eye on the front door and greet whoever comes in but, after that, sleep!

I've noticed that if I'm quiet and restful that everything around me is, too. Like now. I'm snoozing under Mom's desk, quietly breathing in and out while Mom puts thoughts on the computer thing. She's quiet and peaceful. I like that.

The Old Guy

Someone called me The Old Guy the other day. I'm not sure why. Mom said it was my white face but what does that have to do with being old? I run. I jump. I climb 3 flights of stairs at least twice per day. What's old?

There are some new young pups around here now. The crazy Chessie (now 8 months old and still peeing in the house) and lovely Zoe (the Great Dane mix that Mom says will sit on me later in her life unless I learn to be very nice to her...I think she's 3 months old). Both of them like the whole nibbling of lips, licking of ears, running in circles...just so, hmmm, childish? I get yelled at when I try to exert my influence...maybe my growl sounds worse than I mean it to.

I don't feel old. I'm not ready to be old. Maybe I should growl at the person that called me The Old Guy.

My Job

Part of my job is to just be. It was like that yesterday when Mom was sick. She needed to stay in bed and sleep and, well, hard as it was, I needed to just be there with her. Sleeping in bed all day is not for the faint of heart! There is the 'cuddle' position, the 'lay across the feet' position, the 'sprawl over the bed like I own it' position (a good one to assume when you are encouraging someone to go outside)...hey, you have to work at this 'in bed all day' stuff.

But more important that positioning is being. I didn't really do anything but I do believe that, had I not been there, being, Mom would have been even sicker. I mean, sometimes it seems all that's needed is a quick nuzzle, a stretch or two (accompanied by tummy scratches) and life seems almost normal for poor sick Mom.

It's a tough job being in charge of just being.