Ugh. What a crap ass weekend.
The dog is driving me nuts. She still requires near constant supervision, and even with that she managed to tear off a good portion of the scab on her back and a patch of flesh on her lower lip. I have no idea how she did either of those things. In both cases, she was fine one moment and bloody the next.
And I can't count how many times I pulled her head out of the toilet, wiped her drool off the hardwoods, listened to her scrape her cone down the walls, assisted her down the stairs just so she could turn around and walk right back up them, cleaned up her tipped water bowl, got up in the middle of the night to let her pee, and tripped over her because she insists on walking right behind me ALL THE FREAKING TIME. Seriously, you guys. My dog is stalking me.
Did I mention that she's deaf? Well she is, temporarily (please, please, please let it be temporary), thanks to those roaring ear infections. In the meantime, it's nearly impossible to reteach her the house manners that have been erased by too many years locked outside.
And the walks. I've about lost my patience with the dirty looks, people. Do I need to wear a shirt that says "I didn't do it" whenever I take her out? God bless the uncouth children who aren't afraid to just ask what the hell happened to her.
Of course, it all seemed worse this weekend thanks to the violent uprising of the contents of my stomach. Repeated violent uprisings. Perhaps as a sign of sympathy, the dog started throwing up too. Awesome.
I will be so very glad when she is back to normal. There will still be the issues of her drool on my hardwoods and her tipped water dishes (she always has been a bit of a klutz), and at her age there's a very good chance that the stair assistance will need to continue. But eventually, The Kid and I will be trained to put the lid down on the toilet, and she'll stop leaving smudges of blood on my furniture and scabs on my kitchen floor. And then won't life be grand?
And really. How freaking adorable is this?
Then (Fall, 2001):
Now (Spring, 2009):
For you occasional reassurance
18 hours ago