Earlier this week, I was convinced I was saying goodbye to Toby. It’s been three and a half weeks since his last visit to UCD Vet Hospital, and the patterns were repeating themselves. He was lethargic, he was coughing some, and uninterested in food. He wouldn’t leave his bed, and didn’t even care about the other dogs yapping on the bike trail. I came home to check on him every two hours. Steve and I argued over whether or not we should a take him in. Alex’s eyes welled up at the dinner table. Oh, we were a sad house…
But when Steve was around, he perked up a bit. Kind of the way kids perk up when Dad comes home from work (my friend Loran used to say she and her siblings would puppy jump their dad, a perfect description). Which confused me. In a good way, except it made me a little jealous (clearly maturity is not one of the gifts of age).
I counter attacked with roast beef. And hamburgers. And turkey. Not the cheap stuff either. The best in the store. The only meat in this house is being served to the dog.
And wouldn’t you know it? He’s back to being the active, alert, annoying dog he’s been for the past ten years. Running up and down the stairs, barking at the walkers, chasing every bird and squirrel, muddying up the sliding glass door. He’s sitting on the picnic table right now, sniffing the air, basking in the sun.
For the moment, it’s a very good thing.