I snoozed while Ellie was out this morning. Then she came back and took me for a little walk. Just down to the corner and back. I sniffed the grass, fell down, sniffed some more. Last night was terrible. I couldn’t get comfortable. I kept walking in circles trying to figure out what to do or where to go. Then I’d fall down. I get really upset when I can’t get up.So I’d howl for Ellie to help me.
At bedtime Ellie spread a blanket on the floor under my bed and shut the door. I walked round and round. She picked me up and put me on the bed with her. Usually that’s a treat, but I was so tired I just lay there. It was cozy to rest my back against her big body. Each time I woke up, I wasn’t scared. She was right there petting me. After a while she put me in my bed and I finally had a good sleep. Maybe tonight will be better.
I haven’t wanted to eat and moving hurts too much. Ellie takes me out for a walk, but it is so much easier to just sit down. One foot really is hurting me. I howl at Ellie after she turns off the lights at night. I howl when she goes out. I howl when people come in, but nothing changes.
Then Ellie gets up in the morning and mutters to herself as she moves around the house. I pee on the floor before she can put me outside. So she stops and cleans that up. Then she’s in the hall bathroom making lots of noise. She comes looking for me, picks me up, and puts me down into the bathtub in some warm water. I would rather not have a bath, thank you very much. But the water just comes up to my tummy and she doesn’t do the usual scrubbing with soap and bubbles. She just strokes my back and keeps me from falling down. I relax a little, but then I’m ready to be out of there.
Ellie lifts me out of the tub, without much cooperation from me. I just want to get away, wagging all my legs like I’m still in the water and swimming. She dries me off with the usual big towels. While she’s drying me and I’m struggling, she handles my sore foot again and I hear a loud, “Yes! The water loosened it up!” She holds on tight and I howl as she pulls something that’s stuck to my paw. Finally she lets me go.
That was a few days ago. Whatever was making my foot hurt is gone. I can walk and jump again, although I still fall down a lot. Most days I’m doing my peeing and other stuff outside and that makes me feel like jumping for joy.
I love it when Ellie knows what I need! Time for a long nap…
I sneeze and my head bounces off the floor. Again and my nose hurts. That just makes me sneeze more. Now Ellie grabs me and is trying to wipe something off my nose. Tastes funny. She puts a wet cloth on me and it stings. I sneeze again. Oh, well.
These days I’m hitting my head a lot. I just don’t see that the door or table leg or box or bed is in my way. Or I don’t hear Ellie sneaking up behind me and I jump and whack my head on the wall. Or I trip on my water bowl and land on my back, my nose grazing the cupboard door. That’s life!
We just came back from a nice slow walk. I sniffed the bushes and picked up lots of good smells while the wind blew my fur all around. Ellie started pulling on the leash near the end of the walk. Achoo! This time she was sneezing. Achoo! Achoo!
“Come on, Foxy,” she said. Back in the house for treats and dinner and a nice long nap.
On these hot nights Ellie often takes me for a walk in the dark. I hear her murmuring about how lovely the air is, as she walks along in her short pants and tee shirt. Hey, you’re not wearing a fur coat, lady. So I huff and puff and pant my way down the street.
Night walks are great for sniffing and listening to all the critters peeping and cheeping, but I can’t see much. In the light I can always see the dog on the other side of the street, but in case you didn’t know, I don’t see much that’s right in front of my nose. Well, unless it’s moving, like when Ellie throws treats on the floor.
So at night I have to find my way by sniffing. Of course my wonderful human comes to the rescue with her little flashlight, which she points at the ground in front of me. It helps me find my way down the steps from the front door, across the grass and down the sidewalk.
So we walk along, Ellie murmuring, me sniffing, licking the best spots, jumping on the cool grass, and following the bouncing light down the street. Happiness.
From the front lawn I leave Ellie in the dust and run straight to the door. As soon as she gets the door open–sure wish I could do that myself– I race down the hall, slipping and sliding on the wood floor, and skid to a stop on the rug in the TV room. That’s near my food bowl and I like to check it often to see if anything new has turned up. Then I trot back to the bedroom and lie down. Or go through Ellie’s office and down the other hallway to the front room or the garage. Most of my walking is back and forth between the bedroom and the kitchen. If that floor was more like the dirt in the woods, I’d have worn a path into it by now.
At night I’m not sure where I want to be. Ellie is in her bed and the lights are out. I look around the bedroom, not seeing much. I walk to my water bowl in Ellie’s bathroom and give it sniff. I step out into the open space by the front door. What now? Where to? I saunter into the kitchen, sniff my food bowl, walk around the sofa. Do I want to go out through my door? Not really. Check the food bowl again–empty. Everything else the way it should be here, I walk back to the bedroom. Click, click, click, my claws mark my pace. I walk in, hear Ellie sleeping, check out my beds–the old one I never use any more, the comfy one that smells like me and is lumpy and ripped, and something new that Ellie keeps throwing treats on. It’s thick and spongy, hard for me to walk on. None of them seems very interesting, so I walk back out to see what’s going on in the kitchen. Click, click, click…