After a diagnosis of strep throat.
Like the very next day.
I had what they are calling reactive airway disease with wheezing.
In other words…I couldn’t freaking breathe…I was moving no air through my lungs.
And I was scared silly.
Therefore I am armed with a rescue inhaler, am on antibiotics for the strep, and a tapering dose of prednisone.
Lucy has taken it upon herself to tell me I need my inhaler when I start wheezing and coughing in my sleep.
2 puffs every 4 hours. Yep, she has it down pretty well.
She got a bath!
With my back so bad, she hasn’t had a bath in so long I’m not going to tell you how long it’s been. Suffice it to say it’s been ages.
She sure does smell better and is a lot whiter. I delight in the freckles that you can see under the clean fur.
She’s even wearing her newest Collar My World collar.
So glad I washed Ted night before last. Lucy needed him to be at his best yesterday.
Below is Ted, Lucy’s blanket.
Lucy loves Ted, but Ted was getting awfully stinky. She snuggles Ted, she nibbles on Ted, she rolls up in Ted, she sprawls out on Ted. She drags Ted around the house some days. But on thundery, stormy days she hides in Ted when she’s not hiding in her crate.
Lucy loves her Ted.
“Hey Luce, wanna go out?”
Lucy runs to the front door.
“Oh no you don’t. Time to go pee, you don’t go pee out front.”
She runs into the kitchen, as I reach to hook the leash on her collar, she does an about face and races back to the front door.
“Get back here!”
She saunters to the kitchen. I reach for her and she’s off like a shot.
“Lucy! Quit playing games. It’s time to eat and you need to go out first.”
Lucy explodes into a wild gallop, slides into home at my feet, and waits for me to hook her up.
Food. It’s always food.
Poor Lucy, blissfully asleep. Stretched out full length and snoring like an old drunk, she woke up and piled off the couch like a shot when one very loud firework went off.
Next thing I know she’s opening her crate door and hiding in the back of her crate.
I drop the towel down over the unlatched door and she rattles around then plops down to go to sleep in there.
I am pissed that she’s so scared she hides.
I am pissed that this is only the beginning of her terror filled nights yet to come as the idiots keep setting them off, 1 here, 1 there intermittently, all night, every night. The entire summer.
I do believe that Miss Lucy is going to be one of those great porch sitting dogs.
The other day I cleaned up and put The Curmudgeon’s mother’s old plastic garden bench on the front porch. (We’d had it in various spots in the yard.)
Yesterday, Lucy spotted the neighbor seated on the porch wall between our porches and began to bark at her. Not a mean bark, she was doing her ‘I want to go see her now’ bark.
So, I leashed her and took her out to say hi to Susan. All tail wags and happiness Lucy got to greet her friend.
Susan’s friend showed up so she went to talk to him and Lucy got tired of waiting for her to return. I showed her the bench and invited her to sit there with me. She had a great time.
“Gee, Mom. Wouldn’t the bench be great with a soft cushion on it? Like the couch?”
Not the professional displays mind you, I hate the idiots that set them off in the streets at all hours of the night and day.
Poor Lucy spent the night hiding in her crate. Idiots!
And so naughty too.
I bought a lovely canvas shopping bag to take to the farmers market and various other stores.
Lucy decided it was a toy and I caught her just as she was starting to chew on the purse flap. So glad she ignored the leather handles.
I do believe that was first time I’ve yelled at her since she arrived.
It was with sadness that I updated my blog headline post. However, I do love the pictures of Lucy that I used.
I also redid my about me post, removing Patty’s history and updating Gavin’s.
Gavin was our 7th Bull terrier. In order they were: Danny, Joey, Malcolm, Mercy, Sadie, Patty, Gavin, and Lucy is #8.
Two dogs make a lot of noise.
One dog not so much.
Turns out that old Gavin was the noisier of the two even though Lucy tends to bark more.
Lucy was looking for him today.
No matter how many beloved pets you have, it is always painful when you lose one.
During the night Gavin’s back legs began to fail to support him and he cried all night. By morning, after a dose of his pain medication, his walking improved by only a tiny margin.
We made a decision. I couldn’t see him go through another night the way his last night was. His vet gently sent him on his way.
At 15 years of age, the dear old boy took the record for the longest lived of our dogs.
I wish to thank all the people on Facebook for the lovely sentiments they expressed. They were a comfort to both of us.
Fly my handsome boy, your Patty is waiting on the other side for you.
Seems that no matter how late/early I take the Gavin out, he still wakes me an hour or so before my alarm. So your guess is as good as mine.
I’m actually glad that the old boy is still around to wake me up so don’t get me wrong. It’s just that, every day, I want that hour back.