"You can," I told him. "You'll be delicious."
"Oh, OK."
. . . . gulp . . . .
he tasted GREAT.
Here, for your edification, are the X-rays of dear Paisley's leg. There is, apparently, no new break (since his Monday siezure) but there is, of course, a great deal of abnormality caused by years of living with a shortened ulna. His pronounced lameness, the vet says, may temporarily improve. Unlike me, Fenway Bartholomule, poor cloud dog can't expect much in the way of a full recovery. Not having the $$$$ for surgery to fuse the joint, we are working on making some sort of rigid splint to support the limb and prevent further degeneration. That is, the humans (with their space-age material inventions and their opposable thumbs) are working on making a splint; I am working on giving cloud dog brayful looks of support and encouragement every time he totters into the yard to relieve himself. As always, he fears me (me?!) and keeps his distance. Ears to you, Fenway
So, who needs an illustrator to collaborate with when you can grow your own...
ReplyDeleteLol!
That is a terrific carrot!!
ReplyDeleteFenway, would you be so kind as to write a poem about my friend Ginger rather than my late love Mike? Though it has been almost a year, I still find it too difficult to verbalize our time together. Just thinking about what to tell you about him has me in pieces. Perhaps later, when I'm more 'normal' about his passing, I can commission another poem??
Ginger is 16 this month, and owns two of the most incredible women I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. She was my dog-away-from-home years ago in college, and is simply the coolest thing on 4 legs. Her website is www.yoursavinggrace.org/ginger.html
On an unrelated note, your page is a daily read for us. I make Sara the Appy read it so that she might partake of your mulish wisdom.
Surprisewind, I'd be delighted to write about your friend Ginger. When the time comes for you to tell me more about Mike, I'll write a second poem—on the house!
ReplyDeleteEars,
Fenway