My dog is snoring. It makes me laugh. He won't come out from under the bed. He eats the remains of the cat's food and then drags the can under the bed where he licks it clean and stashes it in his collection. He has quite the collection. Even though the cans are empty, he defends them from anyone trying to clean under the bed. There's a few other things under there, too...chewy treats like raw hide bones, greenies for his teeth, carrot tops and his stuffed turkey. Sometimes when I peak under the bed, I find a pile of shredded toilet paper that he's pulled from the garbage can. Why does he like to shred paper? I feel kind of sorry for the poor little guy when I reach the vaccum hose under the bed and suck up his coveted treasures. I'm violating his personal space, I know. He'll get over it. It's my bed, too.
Yesterday we went to an acupuncturist. Puppy's back has been hurting. I can tell because he hesitates when he jumps onto things. He used to jump on to my bed, but now he perches his front feet on the bed frame and asks me to lift him up. The acupuncturist stuck six needles in his back and massaged the muscles along his spine. He almost got bit when he hit a sore spot, but the old man's reflexes kicked in and he jumped out of the way just in time.
In his broken english, the chinese doctor told me how his friend's dog died and the whole family cried and cried. He thought it was funny that a family would get that attached to a dog. I told him I would cry, too. D'Ogee is my baby. "You don't have children?" he asked.
"No." I replied.
"How old are you?"
"Thirty-four."
"Why you don't have children?"
"I'm not married."
"What? You very pretty. Why you don't have husband?"
That's my cue to give my cutest giggle and make an excuse to leave. First, he informed me that women who have their first baby after thirty five are at risk of having a child with DNA problems. At least, I think that's what he said. He had a pretty thick accent.
Super, I thought, I don't think I'll be having a child before I'm 35. That would mean I'd have to get pregnant by April. I don't want to think about it.
I paid the good doctor $65 and took my puppy home to practice jumping on my bed.
Yesterday we went to an acupuncturist. Puppy's back has been hurting. I can tell because he hesitates when he jumps onto things. He used to jump on to my bed, but now he perches his front feet on the bed frame and asks me to lift him up. The acupuncturist stuck six needles in his back and massaged the muscles along his spine. He almost got bit when he hit a sore spot, but the old man's reflexes kicked in and he jumped out of the way just in time.
In his broken english, the chinese doctor told me how his friend's dog died and the whole family cried and cried. He thought it was funny that a family would get that attached to a dog. I told him I would cry, too. D'Ogee is my baby. "You don't have children?" he asked.
"No." I replied.
"How old are you?"
"Thirty-four."
"Why you don't have children?"
"I'm not married."
"What? You very pretty. Why you don't have husband?"
That's my cue to give my cutest giggle and make an excuse to leave. First, he informed me that women who have their first baby after thirty five are at risk of having a child with DNA problems. At least, I think that's what he said. He had a pretty thick accent.
Super, I thought, I don't think I'll be having a child before I'm 35. That would mean I'd have to get pregnant by April. I don't want to think about it.
I paid the good doctor $65 and took my puppy home to practice jumping on my bed.
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