as i’ve mentioned of late, the dog’s getting old. i’m not in denial anymore, but it still slips my mind frequently. she doesn’t *look* old, she doesn’t *act* old, just the arthritis (she’s on meloxicam now, it works wonders, not so stiff going down the stairs in the am) and the “hearing issues”.
i still haven’t the slightest if she’s actually deaf (probably, since she doesn’t always hear formerly exciting things, like food packages opening) or merely exhibiting the privileges of her age.
she faked me out yesterday. things had been going better with her. when we first moved into the new house, there was a couple of weeks of erratic behavior, like peeing on the kitchen floor a few times, and that worsening of the arthritis. reasonable, since she didn’t get a vote on packing up and moving to a new place. she’s been fine for weeks now, though, so when she smiled at me when i was heading out to the mailbox (they’re located communally just up the street a bit), i didn’t think anything of just opening the door and letting her head out with me. she’s always been very good off-lead.
*pow* off like a shot. at my short whistle, she turns to look at me, then heads straight for the main street that runs through the neighborhood. oh, crap. gotta pull out all the stops, kneel down in the grass to call her over for some luvin. after the requisite petting (“good dog for coming back”), i get to drag her up the sidewalk into the house, her whining the whole way.
sigh. obviously, she heard me call her, twice. just as obviously, didn’t particularly feel the need to do anything about it. damn dog.