Note, that’s not my dog. I didn’t have a photo of her handy to post. I will next time. Plus, this photo was just too cute not to share.
I’d planned on writing blog posts for both days this weekend. Planned on getting a lot done. Yeah, I said planned. My dog had other ideas.
I love my dog. She’s my dog. People like to tell me she’s just a dog, but she’s not. She’s mine. She adopted me. For whatever reason, she’s decided I belong to her. Works for me.
Most of the time I don’t mind her shenanigans. I mean, she’s a dog. She can’t always control herself. I know that. But this weekend, she was a real pill.
It started out with a pair of matching socks. No, the more I think about it, the whole thing started Sunday morning at three a.m. I don’t sleep well. One noise and I’m wide awake. I hear the dog making noises and wake up to find she’d barfed. I clean it up, get her settled and go back to bed. She graces me with the same thing at five-thirty, but this time I got her outside before I had to clean anything up.
Then after I was up for the morning, I found a puddle on the floor. Seems when I’d decided to wash the grays out of hair the night before, she had to go out, but couldn’t, so she left me a present. Needless to say, I found the puddle in those matching socks.
I get teased by DH. If I’m wearing matching socks, it won’t be a good day. If they don’t match, then it’ll be okay. Turns out, he was right yesterday. After the multiple messes, my pup decided it would be great to wander the house. This isn’t bad, just…I have to watch her. Last month she had to have one of her eyes removed due to glaucoma that was uncontrollable. Not good. But she’s bounced back wonderfully. Really. For being 13 and down an eye, she’s a champ. She’s still got the spunk in her step and can’t wait to go for car rides. It’s just that sometimes she strolls the house for what seems like forever and occasionally if she doesn’t think anyone’s around, she’ll leak.
She didn’t intend to make a mess and I can’t blame her for having an upset tummy. It happens to the best of us. I honestly can’t blame her for the puddle, either. I should’ve been watching her. She’s old and leaks. If I’d have been keeping an eye on her, she might not have done it. Like I said, she has to be watched.
But I bring this up because I was told the other day that authors have brilliantly wonderful lives that are full of glamour and fun. I can’t say I don’t love my life. I have good dogs, good cats (well as good as cats can be), a great family and I get to do what I love by writing. But it’s not all rainbows and skittles. Not by a long shot. I ended up going through three pairs of socks yesterday. Got mud on my jeans when I watered the plants because I went to check one of them and transferred the dirt from my hand to my pants. See? Not thrilling stuff.
And yet, I managed. I’m still here. I’m breathing. I will get some writing done later. It’s a good day. Even with the puddles and mishaps, it’s good.