Lenny is starting to feel his age. He's lived every day of his life balls-to-the-wall beast-mode full-bore and it's starting to show. Bad knee, bad back, bad heart. The vet said that at 8 years old, he has the heart of a 15 year old dog. The last couple months it's been looking like he wouldn't be with us much longer. He was coughing so much and his lungs were filling up with fluid.
But then they changed his medication. They gave him a diuretic for the fluid and beef-flavored hydrocodone for the cough. It's the same stuff they give me for my neck pain. I had no idea it worked for coughing, but it's turned Lenny into a whole new dog.
Just in the span of a couple weeks he's gone from hardly being able to move all day to trying to steal my lunch and personally dominate every member of the pack just to show them he's still in charge. I don't know how much longer he has, but it certainly looks like for now he definitely has a good quality of life.
And for now Lenny, being the lecherous moxy dog that he is, jumps on the back of the couch every day when it's time for his beef flavored narcotics. It's nice to see the old Lenny back, even if I have to guard my sandwich.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
|"Pet, don't point that thing at me!"|
When I am sitting on the couch, she will come up behind me, stand on my shoulder and paw at my face like I am a bad pet being scolded. If I leave her alone in the baby-gated family room, she will sometimes go to the edge of the gate and bark sternly at me, almost like she is saying "PET! COME USE YOUR THUMBS TO OPEN THIS THING, PET!"
I've thought about it, and I don't think that her being the owner changes our relationship much. As long as she listens to me when it counts, which for the most part she does. If there's stranger danger, or a car coming, or some reason I need her to come to me or move away, she does listen to me.
I'm happy to have a little dog like Zoey, even if she thinks that I am her pet.