Poor Ol' Pooch

Ever since this blog started, about a million years ago, Pooch has been my loyal sidekick. My furry, not terribly bright, acts-before-she-thinks-and-often-doesn't-think-afterwards-either, perpetual baby. She likes to bounce and sing. At the same time. She knocks things over in very creative displays of speed and poor coordination. Usually right after she's been outside for a poo. Nothing makes Pooch more bouncy and accident-prone than a good poo.

But although she is the silliest baby in the world, she is also going on 12. In her waking moments she is as lively and daft as when she was young, but she's far less enthusiastic about getting out of bed before noon, and GOOD GRIEF does she snore... She's got a bit of an old lady turkey neck going on. When the postman knocks, she doesn't always hear. Her eyes are more grey than they used to be.

A little while back, we noticed she had a bad limp on her front leg. Remember that? Later we spotted that same limp again. Unsure what to make of it, we called the vet. He figured that it might just be a pulled muscle, but advised us to give her a pain killer. If that helped, it would indicate early stages of rheumatism.

The pill helped.

I wish Pooch came with a rewind button on her. I could start her over again. Not all the way back to puppyhood, as I value my sanity. But a few years would be nice. Although I expect we'll get a couple more good years out of her yet.