Dog Days

I think "dog days" are supposed to be in the sultry month of August, but I almost had one recently. It seems our aging dog needs "hormones" so we have these small pink pills that must taste like bubble gum because she swipes them off my hand without a thought.

With sleep still playing with my eyes I pressed down on the cap of what I thought was my blood pressure medicine the other morning and started to toss the medical wonder down the hatch only to discover that alas the small blue pill that was meant to keep a lid on my bodily temperament was pink. I almost took the dog's hormones.

I wonder what would have happened? I suppose one thing for sure, my blood pressure would have been up that day. Would my voice have a slight high pitch to it? At mid-afternoon would I suddenly be compelled to scratch behind my ear? I might find myself wanting to get under my desk rather than sitting at it.

Upon returning home would Betsy comment about how sad my eyes looked and was it that hard a day? But would all be OK after she rubbed my head and tossed a treat my way? I suppose I would have had a "dog day."

I remember years ago when I discovered that I had high blood pressure. I barked come to think of it. I could not believe it. I ran every day, I was not overweight, I ate little red meat....I was supposed to be healthy. I growled at the doctor who asked me if anybody in my family had high blood pressure? "Well, my mother did before she died of a sudden heart attack...and yes my dad had it...so?" He looked at me and then asked, "And from your chart I see what you do for a living."

That ended the conversation. I was given my little blue pills. It was a dog day but I've been panting along ever since so perhaps taking one of the dog's pills would have been fine.

As I write this she is snoring beneath my feet...under the desk. It's her favorite place to spend the day. She likes quiet dark places. Her days of chasing squirrels and running beside me are over. Now she simply looks up at me with those eyes and more or less says, "Give my my pills, scratch my head a bit, and move your feet so I can get under the desk."

It's a simple life but she seems quite content. She has trouble getting up steps these days and when I clap my hands to see if she wants a dog biscuit her old dance is rather subdued. I suppose the pills help. Where is that bottle? I wonder if it does taste like bubble gum?

Bless you
jody