Around 3, I hear the sound of a big dog moving around.
I sit up to look over at Sam, who has been sleeping in my room.
Instead I see Molly’s head pop up, looking excited!
She gives a muffled, middle-of-the night "wroo."
Did I mention she’s been diagnosed with arthritis in her wrist and probably ought not be doing stairs? (Sigh.)
I go downstairs and let her out, worried that the slight increase in her anti-inflammatory dose is making her sick.
I go into the bathroom, still worrying.
I go to the back door and find she has tucked herself under a bush she likes.
She does not come when I call.
(It’s March 25th!!! Could you stop with the snow?)
I get some good-smelling treats, put on my fleece vest and Crocs and go out into the snow.
I go over to the bush to get her attention.
She doesn’t respond to the good-smelling treat.
Now I am really worried.
I decide to go check out her bidness, to see if it is disturbing in nature.
Bear in mind that it’s dark and snowing and lots of old poo that has been uncovered during melting is now covered again.
I hew close to the swingset, walking in spots where it would be awkward for dogs to potty.
I discover that the poo is perfectly normal; she just didn’t go out in the evening.
Who was supposed to check on her and let her out?
(He’s in trouble.)
I have to go under the bush and put the venison jerky against her nose.
Finally she decides to get up for the jerky.
Maybe the name of the treat should tell me something.
We go inside.
I change my nightgown and go back to bed.
Three hours later I wake up, zombie-fied.
I’m drinking a big cup of coffee.
How are you this morning?