While Bubbey’s been in London this week, I’ve been on puppy patrol. I know, Marty is no longer a puppy, but I still call him that. Just roll with it. So his status has been very up and down and day-to-day. One day he’ll have great appetite and energy, the next day, he’ll be lethargic and very weak. The third day, looking better again. The fourth day, shitty again.
On Wednesday night, he was especially restless, scurrying in and out of the doggie door throughout the night. I was also continuing on some weird sleep schedule, where I wasn’t falling asleep until after 3a, and then I was waking up late, like 11a. Yes, back to that bullshit schedule again. Anyway, on Thursday morning, Martin seemed particularly urgent in heading out to the yard, so I decided to track him from the windows: first my office window then quickly over to Bubbey’s office window, which gave me a view of the back part of our yard. Marty started pacing frantically from one side of the yard to the next, searching for that perfect spot. He finally squatted to take a dump, and as I had been noting since late last month, his hind legs are getting weaker. I had started extending his walk farther in hopes of building more muscle strength, but still, balancing that squat appeared quite precarious. Thankfully, he pooped without losing his footing and without falling back into the pile. Yet, to my horror, he got up and then started to move his snout all around the pile of poop!! It was as if he were trying to move dirt (except he was in the lawn) to cover it or something. He was getting dangerously close, and then bc his balance is sketchy when he leans forward too, just as his nose touched the ground, his body started like tipping forward… like ready for a full-on face plant at any time.
WTF??? I tried desperately to get his attention. I screamed from inside, banged on the window, and finally slid it open, clapping and whistling. Remember, he’s mostly deaf. Thank god he heard the whistle, put his head up, looked around, cocked his ears, and then headed back for the doggie door.
What is this covert activity??? It reminded me of that time when I came home from work early only to find Remy in the backyard eating her shit. WTH, these old dogs are seriously going loony! To make matters worse, do you have any idea how much I cuddle with Marty’s snout? I mean I am regularly all up in his grill, kissing his nose, rubbing his snout, smushing my face against his. Holy. fuck. Who knows what kind of fecal coloform I am getting all over my face, my sensitive skin, and into my mouth. Ugh, disgusting. Can my allergy-affected nose be trusted enough to sniff out shit before it’s too late? Dubious.
