Friday, 23 January 2015

dog stuff

Oh having a pet is marvelous. There's the unconditional love they give, the cuteness, the dog-hugs, the funny things they do with their little personalities. There's the endless photo ops and the weird knowledge that you've made a connection with a being of another species, which is pretty amazing if you think about it long enough.

It is also tough. The responsibility. The knowledge they're not going to be around forever and it's YOUR problem. That's the difference between having a family pet when you're a kid and when you're the adult. You have to be the one to determine when it's time to take it to the vet for the weird ear thing, you have to pay for and then administer the medications. You have to be responsible for the poop clean-up. The walks. The overall health. The food allergies. The broken neck. The mental health. Is he happy? You have to determine that.

Tank is doing ok right now. He got a weird cyst between his toes, which has happened before, it's very common for bulldogs. This time, though, rather than healing on its own it has become a monster. There are weird pink lumpy bits that have emerged over the last couple days and he lost all the fur and it keeps bleeding, it's gross. It still doesn't look infected but something has to be done because it looks like it would hurt. Although Tank barely seems to notice. But he is laying with it out like that so who knows.

He's tough. He had a broken neck a few months ago for goodness sake, I guess a little foot problem is nothing compared to that.

So off to the vet we go again.

It sucks, yesterday Ryan found Tank's birth certificate (yes we have one, he's a pure bred fancy pants dog) and he's turning nine in May. NINE!! That's getting WAY up there in bulldog years.

It's so hard to know what to think about him. He is definitely slower than he was and sleeps A LOT, but he doesn't seem like an "old dog" like some old dogs do. He's not grey or anything like that. He still has a puppy face and does super cute head tilts when you say a few magic words.

But then he gets a weird foot thing and it turns disgusting and doesn't heal well. And he moans when he can't get comfortable in his bed. And he doesn't seem to like quick-paced walks anymore, he'd prefer a casual stroll where he stops and smells every single thing ever. You kind of have to drag him along. Unless there's a kitty nearby, then he's in full puppy mode again.

Look at this face! This was four days ago. Is he a man or a baby?

I can't tell if this is meant to be a depressing post or an ode to the love I have for this funny little guy. Both I guess. Having a pet makes me sad a lot more than it used to.



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