Dog decisions
Like children, if I had (biological) children, I love both my dogs – equally.
Each has a personality all her own, which is both exasperating and exhilarating.
On Saturday, I led a hike for a north state nonprofit group.
A hike. With dogs.
Trinity is totally out of commission. She doesn’t feel well – she seems to mope around like she’s in trouble and she isn’t – because of the ulceration on her cornea. The eye looks better; there’s no more gunk coming from it and she keeps it open for longer and longer. And she no longer seems to mind the huge plastic cone she has to wear like a halo around her head.
And Scully, well, I retired Scully last year from anything more strenuous from a walk around the flat neighborhood streets.
I was either going to go dogless, boost a loaner dog from friends or make the choice to take one of my dogs – one injured, one old.
I took Scully, and hoped for the best.
We had a great time.
First, I let her sit up in the front seat, which I had always done with her before Trin arrived (Trin is too excitable for the experience). She played nice with the six other dogs on the hike.
She made the entire six miles, without getting swept away in the creek, or flat-out quitting, like she did last year (same trail, too).
She did require a couple of Ibuprophen when we got back, but she’s fit and feisty this morning.
It so pained me to leave Trin, the go-to action dog that just never quits.
It pains me to see her suffering.
(All skunks are on my shit list and my Daisy BB gun is cocked, locked and loaded.)
She’s the one that has been reduced to being left behind.
And Scully gets to go play, hard.
At mass on Saturday, I said a little prayer to Saint Francis, patron saint of animals. Hey, it couldn’t hurt.
A little old lady in front of me, when we did the greetings, asked what she could pray for in my life. I told her my dog, and told her the story. She was touched. And I know she’s praying for Trin, too.
I can’t wait.
I can’t hardly wait until my pack is back at full strength.
Bounding across grassy fields.
Without a care, or cause for concern.
Each has a personality all her own, which is both exasperating and exhilarating.
On Saturday, I led a hike for a north state nonprofit group.
A hike. With dogs.
Trinity is totally out of commission. She doesn’t feel well – she seems to mope around like she’s in trouble and she isn’t – because of the ulceration on her cornea. The eye looks better; there’s no more gunk coming from it and she keeps it open for longer and longer. And she no longer seems to mind the huge plastic cone she has to wear like a halo around her head.And Scully, well, I retired Scully last year from anything more strenuous from a walk around the flat neighborhood streets.
I was either going to go dogless, boost a loaner dog from friends or make the choice to take one of my dogs – one injured, one old.
I took Scully, and hoped for the best.
We had a great time.
First, I let her sit up in the front seat, which I had always done with her before Trin arrived (Trin is too excitable for the experience). She played nice with the six other dogs on the hike.
She made the entire six miles, without getting swept away in the creek, or flat-out quitting, like she did last year (same trail, too).
She did require a couple of Ibuprophen when we got back, but she’s fit and feisty this morning.
It so pained me to leave Trin, the go-to action dog that just never quits.
It pains me to see her suffering.
(All skunks are on my shit list and my Daisy BB gun is cocked, locked and loaded.)
She’s the one that has been reduced to being left behind.
And Scully gets to go play, hard.
At mass on Saturday, I said a little prayer to Saint Francis, patron saint of animals. Hey, it couldn’t hurt.
A little old lady in front of me, when we did the greetings, asked what she could pray for in my life. I told her my dog, and told her the story. She was touched. And I know she’s praying for Trin, too.
I can’t wait.
I can’t hardly wait until my pack is back at full strength.
Bounding across grassy fields.
Without a care, or cause for concern.
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