Watched my grandson’s dog recently. He’s a mixed-breed mutt, like all of our dogs have been. Except he has jowls like those of a bull dog. With those jowls come the consequences of drooling. Drooling and headshaking are the worst.
My dog, Max is not perfect, but he’s not capable of propelling blobs of drool across the room. Gideon, my grandson’s dog, is very good-natured. Perhaps, with a little too much separation anxiety. I’m sure that would subside were he to visit more often. As it is now–it’s only once a year.
In our family there are mutts of all sizes, from large to small. Max is somewhere in the middle. Bogart, out youngest daughter’s dog, recently emigrated to Australia.
We like all the family dogs, grand-dogs. Even, the newest four-year-old addition, Gideon.
It’s been a busy day. I feel like I’ve been chasing my tail all day. Which is ironic, considering one of the tasks was taking the dog to the groomers.
The groomer is at the veterinary’s office. So Max wasn’t pleased when his car ride ended at the vets. All was well, after he arrived home. A treat worked wonders.
Panic ensued among the staff at the clinic, as a cat patient escaped, and was hiding somewhere on the property. At least Max, didn’t make a run for it. He doesn’t, at present, smell as much like a dog. As much as I’ve tried to raise him right, Max doesn’t especially like cats, anyway.
Tomorrow is the annual Thanksgiving journey to be with family and friends. The weather has certainly been different.
A late autumn snowstorm came the day before departure. Texts to our daughter gave good news–the highways were cleared.
We are travelling with only one dog. Our Maggie passed away this past August. It makes things easier logistically, but I still miss her antics.
She’d put her paws on the rear seat heat controls. We always claimed she was trying to “roast” her canine brother, Max.
Looking forward to feasting and fellowship. Have a Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Posts may be sporadic the next few days.
Which was worst?
Knowing, small comfort
Little that could be done
Make things normal as possible
For as long as humanely possible
No small task, knowing some day
Suffering has to cease
The end will come
Among total Strangers
All of them hurried
Harder to lead, than to follow
Road food, road fools
What was with red cars?
Slowed down, sped up
Hungry, didn’t want to stop
False GPS road closure alarms
My five senses, ultimate skeptics
Back at home base, tired, thankful
My little girl dog became ill
Having trouble swallowing
Examined by our vet today
Maggie stayed there overnight
For further workup tomorrow
Hoping for the best outcome
Never had a pet duck. There were plenty of cats, dogs, chickens, calves, rabbits, and pigs. Not that I had anything against ducks.
When I grew up on the farm, there were so many mother cats with kittens, we kids struggled to name them all. One kitten was christened, “Little Bitty Wild Man,” another named “Meowy.” Then the genetic experiment went amiss, distemper struck, and only the strongest survived.
Inanimate objects like automobiles didn’t have personalities, but they did have quirks. Mostly due to deferred maintenance and a long succession of owners. Left rear doors closed reluctantly. Heaters worked, full-blast only–if at all. Windows wouldn’t roll down or up. Worn, three-speed stick shift linkages tested patience. Frequently stuck in second gear.
Nothing like the thrill of going into a skid on rain-slick roads, because one of the tires was bald. There was only money for used tires. Money is no longer the problem it once was. Procrastination, however, still is.
My laptop computer overheated and shut down for a long time before it was repaired. Other things took priority. I have two PC’s, and the laptop worked in 5-10 minute spurts, before it had to be shut down.
The worst quirk–it sometimes wouldn’t shut down, without the battery being removed. Why did I put up with it? I’ve put up with quirky things my entire life, and see them as challenges to overcome. I know, I’m not alone. Toilet tank handle jigglers, please raise your hands. Put them down. I can’t see them anyway.
Where have all the pet psychics gone? Once they proliferated the channels and talk shows. Have they disappeared into obscurity?
Why had my dogs suddenly stopped going on morning walks? “There were no bad dogs, only bad pet owners.” I understood Cesar Millan’s message.
What was different? Did I need to change my morning routine? Was it them? Or, was it me? Had they sensed the recent tropical storm? Was I over thinking the issue?
I needed the exercise and walked without them the past two mornings. The weirdest part was the sensation of them being there–even though they weren’t.
That’s my nickel’s worth. I hope the answer comes soon. I’m not nearly as interesting without Max and Maggie. It may simply be discomfort from summer heat and humidity.