How naïve I am, I was certain once my son’s had left the nest that my life would consist of the man (who I call Daddy (don’t judge) and I being able to just pack up on a whim and go, ugh WRONG. And yes I am referred to as Momma to my kids, dogs, and the man.
My little rescue dogs, Daisy and Peanut have put a kibosh on that idea. Daisy is a 12 year old dachshund/terrier with a whole lot of energy and no clue that she needs to not rip and run like she’s a puppy or her arthritis will flare up.
Peanut is a Pug/Chihuahua who is afraid of her own shadow (someone was mean to her) with a heart murmur and rotten teeth, can you imagine. She is the sweetest little girl but not very bright.
So this week Daisy has been running up and down the stairs like a racing dog and of course began limping on her right leg, so off to the vet for some anti-inflammatory meds and glucosamine, good lord. The huge glucosamine tabs I crush up and mix in with half an egg for her (so spoiled) twice a day. We were going to have peanuts teeth pulled but no Bueno because they can’t put her under due to her heart murmur so stinky breath will remain and I guess they will eventually fall out, yuck
We also travel to our youngest son’s college football games every weekend and thank god my oldest lives close or we would have doggy travel companions on every road trip. They love their boy sitter because he lets them sleep with him which is not allowed when we are home.
I have decided that I want a dog’s life. Let me eat, sleep, and have someone clean up my mess. If I don’t like you I can bark at you or pee on your leg and it is all good. Guess who’s who