Time marches on.
Puppette is still a stay at home dog.
With all the hub bub around buying a house and getting ready to move again, life in boxes... I have not had the time or energy to launch myself against Risk Management at Hospital One in order to get Puppette to work with me.
I have a box of papers, the policy and procedure from Hamsterville Hospital and all my recognition awards for animal handling. That box is somewhere in our storage container.
Puppette has grown older, 8 now, and I am relaxing the rules a bit.
She still must come when called, must obey the basic obedience commands she learned so long ago. She does respond, but at a more leisurely pace than years gone by.
I have relaxed some demands on her. She lives a life of semi-retirement. But she still comes to the door most mornings and looks at me so expectantly, as if to say, Why am I not going with you.
Her life, for six years, was going to work and offering a golden head for loves and pats. She brightened more people's days than I ever could. Her interactions with patients were sometimes miraculous and always rewarding to all parties concerned.
On Friday, she was waiting on the deck and I went into box the doxies. I got back to let her in and she was standing by the truck with that look on her face.
I called her in and she walked to me so slowly. She wants to go with me. The routine that has defined our relationship is gone and she wants it back.
But I am relaxing with her. She still can't have vitamin C so I can't give her the strawberries or blue berries or raspberries she begs for.
But I did something so out of character the other day.
I gave Puppette a french fry.
Yes, me, the champion of all dogs living healthy non human food filled lives gave Puppette a golden arches french fry. It was gone in a flash, but the look on her face clearly indicated the offering was enjoyed. The begging, beseeching look I got for the next ten minutes said she wanted to try another.
She now looks at me very expectantly when we go through the drive through and she smells fries.
I made the mistake of thinking once would be ok. She is older, and much smarter, and will never forget that fry.
Maybe, someday, if I feel bad that we can't walk the halls of Hospital One as the team we make so well, I will give her another one.