Just finished taking the dog for his Saturday walk. He will not let me out of his sight on Saturdays and Sundays until he gets his walk. He knows the signs... Taking a shower, which sneakers I put on, and especially, getting some lifesavers out of the cubboard to suck on while on the walk. By that time he's going bonkers! I attach his leash, open the door and he's gone like a shot! At least to the end of the leash (one of those kind that extends to 20') For the first couple of blocks he's pulling so hard my arm is extended and I have to trot just to keep up. About an hour's walk this morning: around the neighborhood, to the atm machine for some cash, 7-11 for lottery tickets (can't win if you don't play) past the vet (sometimes we stop in just to say Hi, but he hasn't wanted to the past several walks....maybe he remembers that last shot.) I swear, if I wasn't along he would know exactly where to go. Follow one of the typical circuits around the neighborhood and then back home for a drink of fresh water and a treat. He's sacked out in the livingroom in front of the sofa in the sun now. He's had his excercise, time for a nap.
P and I are about to head over to her brothers place. Time to checkup on him. He's been home for little over a week now since his major surgery: fixed three aortic anyurisms. MAJOR surgery. One of the surgeons nicked a femoral nerve and now he has to use a cane and be very careful of how he moves. There is a certain way he can move and all of a sudden he loses all feeling and control of one of his legs. He falls down. Not the ideal situation for someone with a fresh 20 inch scar across his stomach.
We're off!
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