Pretty, intelligent, demanding, vexatious, loved, beloved, precious Lucy.
Fitzi, head cocked a bit to his right, watched Faye come out the door.
He is such a good dog.
I have always loved Lucy’s floppy ears, and am so grateful that they were not cropped by one of her previous owners.
While my family had dogs during my childhood, my real introduction to love of and for dogs began in 1989.
Moxy Kingsley Maxxum Foxfire, aka Kingsley Leigh, was (and I understand I am anthropomorphizing) kind, patient, tolerant of my ignorance of all things dog.
Without having her in my life it is possible I would never have known how good it is to share life with a dog. Or dogs. I expect to continue doing so for as long as possible.
I understand that Canadians call a batter coated hot dog, a Pogo. I occasionally like to have a . . . corndog. In the States they are called corndogs. That is what I am used to. More so, this guy is why I will always call them corndogs.
This guy came into my life in 2006. He was yellow, he was round, and he was a dog. Ergo ipso facto, I named him Corndog. He were the bestus sweetus boyus.
So it’s not a pogo, it’s a corndog. End of story. 🙂
It turned out to be a small scrape on the pad, rendering it sensitive. Since she was largely back to normal by Monday, Labour Day, we decided to continue watching through the week. She’s fine, back to her normal self. Here she is tonight, watching the world go by.
We’re pleased that she is her old self.
Nope, nope not at all.
Our much loved Fitzi.