So now the corgi folks figure I mean doggies, and the gimp folks figure I mean "residual limbs." The folks around here likely think I will be writing about the bliss of living in the woods. So I will do my best to integrate all three.
Bathroom time. Yep, that sacred few moments that you feel should be only your's, but never is. From college times it was given up, and even post divorce and post kids on their own, it is still not mine. Today's cache? One tennis ball, one squeaky ball and one Wubba. And that was just from Henry. (Kate generally steers clear of the bathroom. The tub and shower are in there! Weird, since I usually bathe her in the trailer.) It went something like this: "Oh, she sitting, let me grab a ball for her to throw. Ball. Ball. Uh, Mom, there's a ball. Oh maybe she didn't see me. How about this very loud one that echos. She will see me then. Throw the ball, Mom. No? How about tug of war. I happen to have a wubba now, Mom. Mom?" All of this occurred on the trip for the number one. sigh. Yes, my pups are neglected. Did I fail to mention that we had JUST come in from a run in the pasture? Yep, that nice cool morning rain got me. We still put in about 15 minutes, but apparently that wasn't enough for dear Henry. However, that is his normal. He can be sound asleep; if the toilet lid sounds he is up looking for toys to bring. Perhaps it is his way of telling me I did well. That may be it. He is rewarding me for house training. Wow. I guess I have to stop yelling at him and telling him to go away. Instead I may move a toy basket to the bathroom. At my age I will get plenty of rewards., although I would prefer chocolate covered strawberries.
The saga of the leg is ongoing. I can see by the rub pattern that all the little tricks have not worked and this liner will not make the warranty time either. Something is seriously wrong and neither the manufacturer nor my prosthetist can figure it out. My health and welfare are at risk. I did buy some loctite to glue the bolt into place so I will have no more mishaps that way, but that certainly does not solve this other problem. I have an appointment with another company on Monday morning. It makes me sad, but I am at my wit's end. At this point the idea of even doing ten miles is a joke, let alone the sixty that I will be doing in September. Running? Yeah, right!
Last night I took the dogs out for their final trip before the lights were turned off. The neighbor dog was barking. Every once in a while it happens. Something gets her going and she starts a low rhythmic bark. None of us have a clue what she is doing. She used to play with the coyotes when she was young. Perhaps she is calling them. Perhaps the neighborhood bear is back in the woods. Perhaps she is dreaming. It is hard to know, but it creeped out my dogs. I had to drag them off the porch. I gave up trying to get them to produce and hoped they were going to make it through the night. I drifted to sleep listening to the dog's strange eerie bark. Then, of course, I made sure to wake her up when we were out at 0600. Pay back. It was all she could do to lift her head a wag the tip of her tail. The bugger. Truth be told, I am delighted that she is back there. I no longer put the little horse in at night, and knowing that she is guarding the pasture is comforting. Then again, it could be that Windy is tormenting the dog. I have no desire to tromp out there in the middle of the night and see. There's monsters in the woods at night...
I guess I have been sitting here too long. Scattered at my feet are a food dish, another wubba, an old sock. I see Henry's nubby tail sticking out of the corner that holds the toy box. He is so darn cute if only he didn't have that irritating bark! Such is my life. My life amongst the stumps!!