I'm in the dog box.

“Swim out of your little pond.” 

~ Rumi

So the hound’s in the market for a NEW human.

She’s DISOWNED her existing one.

She’s looking for someone who WON’T starve her.

Someone who’ll take her for LONG walks.

Someone who WON’T make her wear that RIDICULOUS brace.

Ridiculous in her eyes, that is.

If it was pink or bright red, it would be acceptable.

Or even Buttercup yellow.

Her delight when it was removed at the Physio’s yesterday was boundless.

She lept around the room
 like a puppy,

excitement oozing
 from every pore.

The bum couldn’t 
stop waggling 

even when lying on her back
on the floor.

I think she thought she was rid of it forever.

Little did she know.

I had to harden myself to the pitiful look as Steph coaxed her back into it.

I’m in the DOG BOX.

Steph has assured me it’s NOT hurting her, just restricting her gait.

It’s not called a HOBBLE vest for nothing.

Without it though the tendon won’t heal.

Would that I talked "hound" and could explain the process to her.

She does the ‘woe is me’ look so very very well.

She even tried to persuade our usual vet to remove it.

He took one look at the waggling bum and gave her a treat.

So she tried the look again.

And got another treat.

She’s learnt that the woebegone look garners attention AND treats.

Now to make her realise that the brace = walks.

It’s like having ANOTHER child ... a 4-legged furry one.

“Every once in a while a dog enters you life, 

and changes everything.” 

~ anon.