Gimme Some Attention

I'm sooo glad we're out of that hotel. And I'll be more glad when we're unpacked and settled in. I want my Dad back. He's been very preoccupied and dutiful lately, and dutiful isn't fun.

Last night, we went for a walk in the new neighborhood. It smelled nice. We saw some rabbits on the walk, but we didn't find any places where we could run. Dad kept us on the leash the whole time. That chafed.

Today, we hopped in the truck to see if there was a place to run nearby. We drove and drove and drove some more. Dad didn't know where he was going and was just making random turns. It worked out though. He found us a nice stream, and I got to fetch the ball.

And just so you know that I'm a dog too, and I have feelings, one time when I brought the ball back, I dropped it in the water, rather than on the sand. Dad encouraged me to bring it to him, but I pretended not to know what he was talking about. He then scrambled after it, slipped on a wet rock and dunked his foot.

I'm not proud. I just want some more attention.

O.

Purr-go

I don't know what's up with the floor in this house. I can't get any traction on it. When Dad came home, I went to get my bone as usual, but when my legs moved, I didn't. It was annoying.

And Dad's laughing didn't help. Then again, maybe it did. I didn't get punished for enjoying his work gloves from Ruffwanda.

If he's gonna leave the entire contents of our house strewn about, even the most well-behaved pup, which I am, is going to be tempted, which I was.

I'm pretty sure Dad thought I ate an entire glove, because after he finished laughing he wandered all over the house with a "where is the other one" look on his face. I had it the whole time cause I couldn't get to my bone.

I heard Dad call the floor Purr-go, which would explain the cat smell in here and, now that I think about it, why I can't go.

B.

Peanut

Our new house smells like a cat lived here. Smells like a cat named Peanut. Peanuts are tasty. Come here Peanut.

B.

Running

Running! Running! Running! I'm running. Dad let me run today. Woo hoo! It felt so good. Although, he did stop me short a few times to check on the stitches, but I forgave him. I just wanted to run.

The stitches come out Friday, and then I'm totally free to be me.

B.

Life's An Itch

The bandage is off. Five days of no running, playing, jumping, climbing stairs . . . no living at all. But now it's off. Woof! And I have to wear this thing for nine days. Aargh!

These stitches itch sooo much. How could they not? s-t-I-T-C-H. Might as well spell d-r-i-v-e-s-m-e-c-r-a-z-y.

B.

Mo' Meds

Gotta keep this short. Eyes are droopy. Much morphine still in me.

Had my leg stitched up this afternoon. I cut it on some barbed wire. Gonna be taking Amoxicillin for the next week. Looking forward to that tastiness in my food . . . and to the follow-up vet visits. WOOF!

B.

Whole Lotta Nothin' Goin' On

Orsa is still fetching her tennis ball with a fervor, and she's about to graduate to ball number three. But other than that, the past week had a whole lotta nothin' goin' on.

B.