People get so in the habit of worry that if you save them from drowning and put them on a bank to dry in the sun with hot chocolate and muffins they wonder whether they are not taking cold. ~John Jay Chapman, American author
I know Mama’s been worried about me.
She denies it, of course, but I know. I’m in tune with her emotions, like a good Sheltie should be.
She’s been like a frantic tornado, moving furniture, cleaning out clutter, throwing away excess, donating to charity. Shoot, even the “poor dogs” at the shelter got some stuff.
And on Friday, she hauled me to the dogtur for an exam.
The two of them must think I’m deaf or something because they stood there looking me over, checking everything from teefies to tail. And when they finished, Dogtur pronounced me fit as a fiddle.
Whatever that means.
I guess it must be good because Mama got this big smile on her face and let Dogtur feed me some cookies.
Gosh, Mama, don’t you know it’s worthless to worry? I’m fine, really.
But still there are some changes afoot.
Dogtur told Mama that getting more exercise would be good for my hips. Mama is afraid of taking me outside — in case I poop out and she has to carry me home! — so she asked about the treadmill, and Dogtur agreed.
Seriously, Dogtur? I’ve heard of dogs who regularly exercise on water treadmills but not human ones. I don’t think I’d enjoy being wet much. And there’s no pee-mail to sniff or any other pets or people to greet….
But I digress.
Dogtur told Mama to let me get on it and go real slow, way slower than she goes. And I don’t have to stay on it but a few minutes at a time.
Because I’m not reading or watching TV, you know.
Dogtur said regular exercise would strengthen my back legs, taking some pressure off my arms and shoulders.
I don’t know about the medical stuff, but I’m already plotting how I can make this work for me. I’m a dog who does best with rewards.
And if I have to walk on that treadmill, I’m going to insist Mama give me a cookie afterward.
That should do it!