It has been over a month since Ozzie moved in and boy, has he moved in. From the torn up toys, stuffing and muddy paw prints around the house, his presence is evident everywhere. My only concerns are my sister being knocked over by his puppy energy and his eagerness to chase the cats.I had hoped that he would be cat friendly. He had lived with a cat. But so far all he wants to do is go balistic when he sees them.
It will be a long haul.
He is affectionate, goofy, full of manic energy and I am afraid I may not live up to his expectations. Yet he doesn’t seem frustrated or unhappy. I have promised him many adventures and will live up to them. He reminds me more and more of my sweet Buster, in looks and personality. Buster challenged me and I think so will Ozzie.
And Stormy my sixteen year old girl, is still hanging in there. She no longer walks or hardly gets up off the floor but she is alert, loving and loves to eat. I have been prepared for her final day and yet neither of us is ready.
So we wipe up the pee and poop. We clean her up. Give her fresh blankets.
She protests whenever Ozzie goes into my sister’s room, where Stormy rules. I try to reassure her that she is still the Queen. We stroke head and spritz her with Shalimar. I won’t give up until she does. She seems pain free as long as she doesn’t have to walk.
The fragillity of life seem so apparent in spring. Little fledgling birds that leave the nest for the first time only to be caught by the fat well-fed cat. Where is the justice? Or a cat run over on the road because he decided to cross at the wrong time.
Who is too blame?
I have in my home a dog on the way out and a dog that has hardly begun to experience llife. And I am torn in both directions.
The pee is eating away at the paint on the floor. But I can repaint. The house smells of pee and sometimes poop. But this has been the case for seveal years because of all my senior pets.
And now I have a youngster with muddy feet bringing in the spring mud and shaking it all over the house.
All we do is clean up after the animals. Maybe this is what keeps me going, from shriveling up, giving up. for I love the dogs of my life.