Okay so it’s been a few weeks since my diagnosis, and while I only just made the physical therapy appointment with my doctor, things aren’t so bad and I’ve (somewhat) emotionally recovered from that business.
I still wish that I could run, but oh well.
I’ve been distracting myself with crafting projects and dog sitting. A LOT of dog sitting. First it was a weekend with 2 little yappers, and then 3 weeks with Max, a black lab mix, and now I’m at the tail end of my last week of dog sitting for the summer (again, with the yappers). It is a lot of fun, but seriously? I am over the barking.
THE BARKING, THE BARKING, ALWAYS THE BARKING.
It doesn’t help that Mitch (wire-haired dachshund) is Very Concerned with Whatever I Am About To Do so he has to BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK if the door is closed, or if I’m getting into my purse, or if I take down my hair, or if I stand up or if I sit down or if I look at him or if I don’t look at him.
It’s not like I blame him or anything, I am incredibly unpredictable.
Glennys, the corgi mix, doesn’t bark as much as Mitch, (FOR THIS I AM THANKFUL) but she does make this delightful sound that sounds like a combination of a lawn mower and a really full dishwasher. She is adorable and hilarious and I love it. Last night she sat at my feet and growled at me for twenty full minutes (after awhile I was just like, “how long can you keep this going”) in the hope that I would give her another dog treat. Glennys lives for dog treats. Glennys always deserves a dog treat and no matter what you are doing or are about to do, you are probably going to give Glennys a dog treat because she’s adorable and a good girl and STARVING because nobody ever feeds her and she really really deserves a dog treat, don’t you think?
Of course, dogs are disgusting (WHY WOULD YOU POOP THERE WHY oh no DO NOT EAT IT NNNNOOOoooooo) but I love their stinky, smelly faces and their bad breath. My first friend was a giant Great Dane named Boots, so it’s not like I ever have a chance of resisting their furry charms.