
My eyes.
You can almost see what I’m thinking.
I don’t speak words, but my eyes are truly windows.
And the curtains are never drawn.

I run with A-Dog a few times during the week. I can hardly stay inside my skin when I know she’s getting ready for a run and I might be going too. She used to take me every time, but as I grow older, I’m not allowed to go every day.
Recently, my body started to rebel. I would run a mile and begin to limp. Of course, I wouldn’t stop unless A-Dog did. Even with a day of rest in between runs, I would still limp. She said it was hard to tell which leg was affected and after a few days of little improvement, we had to go to Dogdom’s unspeakable four letter word: the vet.
No need to go into details on that horror, but if any dogs out there want to share a better place to hide than the human leg tunnel, I’m all silky ears.
My diagnosis was arthritis — a mild case that can be treated with medication. I started with a quarter pill, twice a day. After two weeks, my dose is now a quarter pill once a day. I am in awe that such a small bit of medicine can make such a difference. (Although, hearing the humans trying to break that little pill into four pieces is hilarious. Watch the language, people!)
I am back to running every other day to a maximum of 3 miles. I’m grateful and hopeful that I can do it for the rest of my life.
Okay, I’ll admit that I can be neurotic. I like routine, crave it actually. so, when a constant in my life gets gone, I worry.
A-Dog took a short trip away with her girls this past weekend. I’m her girl and why I wasn’t invited is still a sore point… Anyway, I’ve gotten used to the fact that she’s always here. She hangs with me most of the day. We run outside together. She rubs my ears at random times. We take potty breaks (not together, mind you.) We’re together day to day.
The rest of the family is here, but they go in and out more often. If they all leave for somewhere, she’s the one that makes sure I’m good to go, or good to not go. She always says “See you soon!” And she’s off. But not for too long.
She was gone for 36 hours this time. I didn’t eat. I looked for her in my waking hours. I did manage to sleep (I am a dog, for goodness sake. Sleeping is a claim to fame.) But I was trippin on a whipple dip.
It’s all good now. I’m calm, cool, collected, eating, sleeping, chilling. I put my neuroses on ice. I can’t stop her from going away, but I hope it’s not for a long time.
::: Originally published February 2009
Guilty as charged! The kitty door lives on the bathroom door and when one of my humans goes in there, I want to be in there too! It doesn’t matter where I am in the house or what I’m doing, if I hear one of them go into the loo, I am THERE!
As I’ve written before, I’ve lived with cats.

Both Fatboy and Littleman (pictured) are now in whatever represents kitty heaven (catnip and forbidden furniture?). But when they lived here with us, we’d all be in that bathroom, if allowed, when the humans were doing the doo.
Now, I know if you’re reading this, you want to know why. What is the fascination? And for both cats and dogs to exhibit the same behavior, it’s a bit mind-boggling. Well, I’ve got nothing for you, sisters and brothers. If you think you have the reason why, I’d love to hear it. Or if you are guilty of shoving your way into the loo, I’d love to hear your motivation.
You’ll have to excuse me for now. I must click down the hall to stick my nose through that little flap to say hellooooooo.
Does a dog have any self control? That’s a good question and I’m not sure if I know the answer.
Let’s examine food in relation to self control. I’m pretty well-behaved, so they tell me. I’ve seen other dogs constantly scrounging for food and I don’t do that. I would if I could, but the scrounger has been trained out of me by my family. Another training technique they used was making me wait for my meals. Oh, the sweet torture! Shoes on the Floor would give me the command to sit, put food in my bowl and make me wait about fifteen excruciating seconds (full of drool, need and want) before saying the magic word, “Okay.”