To tell you the truth, I’m exhausted.
I mean, I did manage to hold my pee till first light, and that seemed to make my man happy, but it wasn’t easy. I mean, I am so thirsty all the time and I drank a whole bowl since bedtime.
But wait, I’m forgetting my manners.
Hello, my name is Pip. I’m a twelve year old Black English Labrador Retriever (see my perfect bicycle seat head). And yes, I said black. You can politely ignore all that gray. I am twelve and I live with two humans whose age totals over 150, so I earned every ounce of silver I wear.
My man, who calls himself, Alan, and my lady, who calls herself, Billie (I know it’s a man’s name, but her father was William and you get used to it), anyway they named me Pip, because my mom’s human said I was “a pip.” They thought it was soooo cute, they made it my name. It’s OK I guess. I mean, I answer to it, but I have to be puppy-stubborn to live up to it and that gets old.
We live on Eagle Ridge. There’s a field one street over. Humans get excited about the buildings you can see from it. “New York City! I love the field too, but for more important reasons, the swirl of smells and my all-time favorite snack- Deer Poop! Mmm-mmm.
Things have been crazy on the Ridge of late
Some guys came and moved all the furniture on the second floor to the garage.
Then some other guys tore up my soft rug and pounded like crazy so now there is wood where the rug was.
My humans got a smaller rug, and they put another rug where I used to sleep, but it has a busy pattern so I don’t sleep there. I don’t sleep in my bed anymore either; it smells like soap now. To tell you the truth I never liked it; I just l slept in it when I was freaked because it reminded me of the one I had when I first came to live with them. So I sleep on the wood, which makes it hard to get up because my back legs don’t work like they used to – I mean, they work when I’m standing and walking, but it’s hard to get a grip on those slippy floors and stairs.
Stairs! The second floor is up fifteen stairs. All right – it’s seven and seven with a rest area, but the new stairs rug is only in the middle so I can’t brace myself against the wall anymore.
After they wooded the floors and stairs, my humans went away. That’s usually nice for me because I get to stay with David and Bhakti who once took me on hikes before I got too slow. Who wants to keep up with pups who don’t take time to smell anything. I stayed with a new human family. They had a pool and were surprised when I didn’t swim. The humans were nice and the other dogs were cool, but my humans came home sick.
“Covid,” They said into the black boxes they’re always staring at. So they didn’t go away again, but I did. This time to David and Bhakti.
My humans got better. I guess they weren’t that sick.
Then there was the week-long dogfight between the furnace guy who swore there wasn’t enough gas to run the furnace and the utility guy who said there was plenty of gas. In the end the driveway and the yard were dug up and the big gray pipes-‘n’-stuff is outside of garage, which the gas guy said the state required, but they don’t. The only thing all humans, (mine, the neighbors, the home owners association) agree on is that it is “ugly” and anything done to mask it or move it, my humans have to pay for.
The pipes-‘n’-stuff doesn’t smell much now, but it’s a big tall thing that’ll attract male dog pee-mail- Bonus!
Then my humans sad-talked about Billie’s sister, who fell and is having a hard time. Billie’s brother came down. His wife’s had the can-sick (more human sad-face talk). She’s getting better, but he’s still worried.
Anyway, they were going to leave me alone again to visit their sister, but I was drinking all this water and had to pee every two hours, so my man stayed home with me. He counted the times he filled my bowl. “128 ounces!” He exclaimed when they returned.
So we went to the vet lady, with some of my pee in a bottle and they stuck me with a needle again. I hate that.
That night I had more trouble on the stairs and got up four times to pee.
Such an ordeal! – bark-to-wake-humans–put-on-my-harness-go-downstairs-drink-a-lot-of water-go-outside-to-pee-come-in-drink-a-lot-of-water and go back upstairs – four times. I heard my man say into the black thing “We get up at night to pee too, but she isn’t choosing the same times.”
We all went to the vet lady again. All the humans had frowny-faces, except when they talked to me and put on that voice that they think dogs and babies want to hear. I don’t mean to seem ungrateful, but I know I’m a “pretty girl” and I don’t need to be told so in a squeaky voice.
“Die-Beet-Ez” I don’t know what it is, but my humans learned how to use needles, not the big kind – I barely feel them.
The stair trips are scary for them so they are taking turns sleeping downstairs. It was my man’s turn last night and he slept on the floor. “Couch is too soft for my back and I don’t really fit in it.”
As I said, I really worked to hold my pee until first light. I’m going to sleep around today.
I wish they wouldn’t worry so much. Sure they’ve cut back my treats, changed my dinner time, and he joined me on the floor, but that’s why I trained them. They’ll adapt.
That’s what humans do – worry. They watch the picture box in the den every night, look sad and worry. I can’t watch that stuff – I bark to go out on the deck till they watch something that makes them laugh.
This morning though, they just looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, shook their heads and laughed. Then my man started to sing and my lady joined in.
“We ain’t got a barrel of money. We may look ragged and funny, but we’re travelin’ along, singing a song. Side by side.”
I love it when they do that.