This morning was not our typical morning. Duncan had crawled under the bed last night, rather than claim our part of it for himself as he usually does, but when I awoke this morning, Ken had been pushed almost completely off, his poor legs draped over the side, and Duncan was asleep between the two of us. I got up and took my shower, and usually, by the time I've dressed and started my breakfast, Duncan ambles down the hall for his morning walk. He didn't do that and when I went to investigate he was standing in the hall, his head hanging as low as his leg was lifted high, a single, very powerful arch of urine burning the wall and the carpet. I raised my voice and when he didn't respond I grabbed a towel and tossed it under him. I couldn't very well get mad since this is not typical behavior and he's been sick, so I led him outside where we walked aimlessly for nearly twenty minutes without finding a spot to tend to the rest of his business, which is also unusual.
I came home from work in the early afternoon to check on him––one of the few benefits of my miserable job being that I work only seven minutes away from home––and although he was in greater spirits and a bit more animated he still had not had a good squat. We cuddled for a bit on the bed where he keeps guard all day, watching the cars come and go in the parking lot from the big window and I went back to work.
The dog I came home to after work, however, was completely different. He ran down the hall toward me, his head high, his tail wagging and we wrestled on the floor with typical abandon. He was anxious to get out for a walk so I leashed him and headed down Bowles toward the library.
It was a cold, silver day, miserable and windy with just a bite of snow in the air. Funny how only three weeks ago the high 40's seemed like Nirvana but now it's painful and just plain ridiculous. The gulls had returned to the lake and all the light boxes atop the lamp posts were full of happy, barking couples, their white heads and yellow beaks peeking down at us. We cut through the park behind the library and skirted the edge of the lake where the ducks had paired up in the reeds along the shore. The colorful mallards, with their heads more purple than green, stood watch over their females, who were low to the ground, probably resting on their clutch of eggs. In a few weeks, just as the trees are budding up nicely and the grass has greened all the way up, the shores will be teeming with fuzzy, awkward ducklings following after their parents and careening off of each other like bumper cars.
Up around the bend in the trail, not far from Hopps Bar and Grill we spotted the first of three rabbits, all of whom seemed quite startled to see Duncan. Word must've spread like wildfire that he was incapacitated for each seemed surprised, then kind of casual about his presence, as though thinking it was safe to play cool since he obviously wouldn't be chasing them, but then quickly startled when they discovered he was fully functionable.
We made our way down to Hero's where Chelsea, who'd heard Duncan was miserable with the Jonah Blues, was quite startled to discover a very exuberant and perky-eared dog. It earned him a treat, a scratch behind the ears and a long walk back home where we rolled in the grass and, as sad as it sounds, I was finally rewarded with that nice, healthy squat I'd been waiting for all day. Is it is the little things that matter, after all.
Duncan is fine. Thanks for the good thoughts.
I came home from work in the early afternoon to check on him––one of the few benefits of my miserable job being that I work only seven minutes away from home––and although he was in greater spirits and a bit more animated he still had not had a good squat. We cuddled for a bit on the bed where he keeps guard all day, watching the cars come and go in the parking lot from the big window and I went back to work.
The dog I came home to after work, however, was completely different. He ran down the hall toward me, his head high, his tail wagging and we wrestled on the floor with typical abandon. He was anxious to get out for a walk so I leashed him and headed down Bowles toward the library.
It was a cold, silver day, miserable and windy with just a bite of snow in the air. Funny how only three weeks ago the high 40's seemed like Nirvana but now it's painful and just plain ridiculous. The gulls had returned to the lake and all the light boxes atop the lamp posts were full of happy, barking couples, their white heads and yellow beaks peeking down at us. We cut through the park behind the library and skirted the edge of the lake where the ducks had paired up in the reeds along the shore. The colorful mallards, with their heads more purple than green, stood watch over their females, who were low to the ground, probably resting on their clutch of eggs. In a few weeks, just as the trees are budding up nicely and the grass has greened all the way up, the shores will be teeming with fuzzy, awkward ducklings following after their parents and careening off of each other like bumper cars.
Up around the bend in the trail, not far from Hopps Bar and Grill we spotted the first of three rabbits, all of whom seemed quite startled to see Duncan. Word must've spread like wildfire that he was incapacitated for each seemed surprised, then kind of casual about his presence, as though thinking it was safe to play cool since he obviously wouldn't be chasing them, but then quickly startled when they discovered he was fully functionable.
We made our way down to Hero's where Chelsea, who'd heard Duncan was miserable with the Jonah Blues, was quite startled to discover a very exuberant and perky-eared dog. It earned him a treat, a scratch behind the ears and a long walk back home where we rolled in the grass and, as sad as it sounds, I was finally rewarded with that nice, healthy squat I'd been waiting for all day. Is it is the little things that matter, after all.
Duncan is fine. Thanks for the good thoughts.
3 comments:
I'm beside myself when I can't solve my Lucy problems. Why can't they just tell us what's up?
Glad to hear things are back to normal. Had to laugh at the 'Hopps' bar and grill...clever name.
Wags - Chris & Mackenzie
Whew!
I could have saved myself considerable worry if I weren't the anal-retentive type that has to read blogs IN ORDER rather than skipping ahead!
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