Fell off my pet steps...

Well, it was time to "go under" meaning go to bed, a phrase my MMM uses to describe going to bed and I fell off the top step of the pet steps...ouch!  My parents felt so bad.  I guess I am not as sure footed as I used to be.  I'll have to be more careful.

The night wasn't too bad.  I actually got some sleep until 4:15 am when the coughing started again and what did that mean???...THE DREADED PILL!!!! I hate the pill.  She tried the pot roast, warmed up and juicy.  I spit it out. She tried the cream cheese, I wouldn't even taste it.  She tried the old standby, braunchweiger, turned my nose away.  I started wondering, what is she going to do now?

Oh, oh, it happened!  She shoved it down my throat and held my mouth shut while gently stroking my chin.  GUUUUUUUUUUULLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPP! It went down.  She gave me a chicken jerky to get the rotton taste out of my mouth.  No where to hide pills in dried up chicken jerky.  Thank goodness for that!  At least there is one treat I can enjoy without suspicion!

It snowed a lot last night and the wind was blowing fiercly when I finally dragged myself out of bed at 9 am and faced the elements for some"good potty."  My MMM put some potty pads down in various spots around the house.  But the only time that I ever used a potty pad was when we were in Las Vegas at Richard's (my human brother) house with his funny pug, Mont DeWillyDeHonk.  Monty used a potty pad in the kitchen when he had a pet door right there out to a nice patio.  Go figure.  Monty would go out on the patio, sprinkle a little on the plants and come back in the house and go on the potty pad. So, being the cooperative house guest that I am, I went out the pet door, sprinkled a little on a few plants and came back into the kitchen and laid a big one on the potty pad.  Monty smiled.  He was proud of me.

So when we came home to MN, I followed these house rules, that I knock at the front door with a little bark when I go outside to potty   No potty pads, no pet door, and no "bad potty" inside the house.  I train easily.

As for my "situation" I am holding my own.  Eating OK, still carrying around some toys, still barking at the mailman, still giving big slurpy kisses and still enjoying my home and my family.  I am a lucky dog.  The fact that I'm standing in line with a ticket in hand for a front row seat to Doggie Heaven, a little sooner than I had hoped, doesn't change that.  I am a lucky dog.