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"Then I got some energy and found an old sock, but Mom said "too hot" to play retrieve. It's my birthday! I should be able to do what I want, doncha think?"
It came back to haunt me. When I was one I started to limp and an exam showed an arthritic condition in my front left shoulder. At that age, rest was prescribed - I was an over-the-top tennis ball chaser - and it worked - until recently. I'm now almost nine and the limping is back along with two of those fatty tissue lumps.
First things first: we're tackling the joint problem by eliminating my ball chasing; I'm to take walks instead. Oh,thrill! Then there are the injections Dad has learned to give me for a couple months to improve that squishy liquid between joints to make it less painful to move. I don't care for those at all.
Meanwhile the vet suggested a new med for joint disease. It's a combination joint support to reduce inflammation and discomfort due to normal daily activity without the side effects and worry of affecting the liver or kidneys. At least that what it purports to do; blood tests for kidney and liver functions after prolonged use are not necessary according to the vet and manufacturers. Mom remains a bit skeptical but is willing to try something more gentle than the other things out there on the market.
So now I have rounded up 31 tennis balls and Mom has put them away; I've turned in my frustration to chewing on sticks I find. And we take more walks - that's good. BUT I MISS MY TENNIS BALLS..............
Love, Jesse
Mom thinks I have a minor case of obessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). She always thought so and then read an article in BARk about it and said she was sure glad I didn't have it as bad as many of those dogs. Ok, Ok, so I do get a bit into "Where is my tennis ball? Can we play again with my tennis ball? I know we've done it many times already today but there's still some daylight left. I know your arm hurts and you've gone through several Chuck-Its, but I'd really, really like to play AGAIN. Last time today.Promise. Maybe.
Hey why'd you get a retriever if you didn't want to have sore arms? "
BUT YESTERDAY I had to be rescued when my penchant, ok, passion, for retrieving all the tennis balls I find got me stuck under the back deck and Mom couldn't fine me cause it's all closed in with lattice. I was whimpering and whining as loudly as I could and Mom was calling and walking around and starting to get a bit anxious. Where could I be? After passing me several times without noticing me, a light bulb came on over herhead - you should have seen it. It was really funny. I heard her say," No, there's no way he could get under there, but............" She put her eyes to one of the holes and there I was - hoarding two balls I had taken in with me to protect them so the other three dogs wouldn't DARE get t hem - and trying to get one loose from the frozen ground I ofund under the deck. I CAN do three balls in my mouth at once. But not four.
She walked all around and pouched on the lattice to determine where I in my OCD enthusiasm could possibly have pushed through. She found no loose place. She plowed through a couple feet of snow on the north side, past a giant ice stalagmite, and found a small opening a rabbit could get through.
She called me, but I wouldn't leave those two loose balls behind and besides I couldn't fit through that hole going OUT, only IN. Off she went. Was I to be abandoned?
No, she brought a saw back and cut through the lattice to enlarge the opening, called me over, took the two ballsaway from me told me to FORGET the one frozen to the ground, grabbed me by the collar and pulled. She showed little mercy, I must add. She'd make a terrible nurse. But then she had to pull me UP to get me OUT, so it was kinda hard.
Shaking her head in amazement and worried I'd re-enter to try and extricate the third ball, she found a cardboard box to block the now- larger hole and rolled the now- broken stalagmite of ice to hold it in place - until it melts - which probalby won't be anytime soon.
I heard her say she's going to visit the vet today; hope it's not for some Prozac. Oh, I just heard her tell Zoe it was her turn to be examined by the vet, so I'm safe. I think I'll cool it for awhile............and stay away from under the deck. Or not. Probably not. Definitely NOT. I hear the call even now...
It was routine. A walk to the mailbox located down on the back road. We do it everyday. As we approached there were trees blocking our view of the road itself and there were high piles of snow limiting our view as well. All of a sudden, this large, very large white and black dog with a curly tail with the look of an Akita mix appeared in front of us, staring at us intently.
We were still on our side of the fence and gate and Mom was getting concerned. FOUR dogs - us - against one HUGE dog would not be good. Then the neighbor's dog from across the road appeared near all of us and just stood and stared at the scene - undecided what action to take . Normally, she barks her head off (isn't that a silly metaphor - what dog would actually do that?) to warn away potential visitors. Anyway, she decided to remain quiet and so did we. Actually Mom was the only one making noise, calling us back to her to make a retreat. The big white dog seemed to have a presence about him that none of us wanted to challenge or even investigate. I think he had what they call CONFIDENCE. So much for that walk to the mailbox. On the way back to the house Mom kept muttering lines from some poem about "Two roads diverged in the woods and I , I took the one less traveled by and that made all the difference. " I don't get it. Do you?
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