A walk in the woods

I went on a hike about a month ago at Corbett's Glenn. It was a beautiful place, but the rolling hills sure did tire me out.

We get by with a little help from a friend.

Are we there yet?

I guess that wasn't so bad.

Can't get into the Cadillac with muddy paws now, can we?

Meet my new roommate

I recently moved into yet another apartment. Although I do wish my mother would just stay put for a while, I'm kind of excited about this new living arrangement because this house comes with a roommate. Meet Barkley, a 12-year-old Chow, Cocker Spaniel, Golden Retriever mix. She's even got a purple tongue.

At first, things were a little testy between Barkley and I. We had two little fights, both which resulted in me being pinned to the ground, but now that we've come to an agreement on who's the boss, things are really great. I pretend she's the boss, but I secretly know I rule this roost. Mommy said it's good for me to have a companion to grow old with.

It's nice to have someone to walk beside. Sometimes I even lean on Barkley a little bit for help keeping my balance. She doesn't like treats nearly as much as I do, and she seems to have turned a blind-eye to my tennis ball. She has squeaked my fuzzy soccer ball a few times, but she seems to understand it's not something to chew on, only to be admired and kicked around, so I haven't stopped her from using it yet.

Although she's much more spry than I am, she's not very fast when it comes to eating her treats, so I've taken to gobbling up my own treat and then quickly rushing to where Barkley is with hers and stealing it. She usually gets mad, but I don't care.

I think I've taught this young whippersnapper a few new tricks. Being that she's still able to jump on the people bed, she sleeps there by day. She likes the vantage point from the bed for people watching, but I know for a fact she's also making eyes at the Spud's Mckenzie dog that lives on the second floor across the street. Mommy told me she's caught them staring at one another a few times. Barkley recently got her own bed, so now she's getting the feel of what it's like to be a real dog. I have to admit, I'm a little jealous of Barkley's bed and when she's not using it, I'll sleep on it just to remind her who's the real boss here. I'm sure you'll hear more about Barkley and I in future blogs. Barkley doesn't have a blog. She's just not there yet.

I will survive

Sorry I've been on hiatus from blogging folks. My mommy told me many of you were looking forward to reading my stuff, so I apologize for the long absence. I've had a lot going on, much of which I'll be getting into over my next few blog posts, but first and foremost, I have to tell you all the great news. I'm not dying!!! I went to the vet yesterday and I got a new leash on life.

For the past few weeks, I've been having a lot of of trouble getting around. I've been falling a lot, walking around like I am drunk, and turning around has been nearly impossible. If I get myself backed into a corner, I find the best way to get out is to sit down, walk my front legs around to the direction I need to head in, and then I drag my back legs up and head on my merry way. It's been pretty hard for my mommy to watch, and she's been concerned that I might be in pain, or on my last legs (no pun intended). When mom's friends come over and see how I'm acting, they get really sad, or say "poor dog." There's been talk about maybe getting me a wheelie cart for my back legs, or even worse, putting me to sleep.

Well, thank god my mommy got an expert's opinion, because it winds up I'm not even close to knockin' on heaven's door, or at least not as close as mom feared I was. Apparently I wasn't taking a strong enough dose of my Rimadyl and so it was barely even helping me. The vet more than doubled my dose.

According to the vet, there's pressure on my spine, either from a tumor, a cyst or a bulged disc, which is stopping the communication between my head and my back legs. The vet said it's like walking around without being able to feel your feet or know where they are. It's just something that happens with old age, and it simply means I need a little more time to get around. But the good news is, he reassured mom I'm not in pain.

The best news is, the vet told my mom there are three indicators of when a dog is getting ready to die or be put to sleep; appearance, activity and appetite. My mommy told him that my appetite is the same as it's always been. Although it's a bit more difficult for me to move around, that doesn't stop me from pacing the floors constantly or walking in the park or around the block. As for appearance, well, I'm as gorgeous as ever. Besides some tartar build-up on my teeth, the vet said I'm in excellent shape for my age and he thinks I have a good amount more time on the earth. So, look forward to more blogs in the future. Until my back legs give out entirely, or something else changes, I'm not going anywhere. (Mom, please get more treats for me because this calls for a celebration.)