I’m used to me waking in the wee hours to use the bathroom. When Sir Thomas wakes me to use the outdoors, it’s a sign something’s not right. The first protocol, given that he didn’t show any other signs of distress – no fever, no unusual behavior, no breathing issues, no tender areas – is to let his system settle down.
Try and rationalize with a 145-pound dog that it’s in his best interest not to eat for twenty-four hours.
Next, explain to the dentist office the need to reschedule because the dog is sick. I could’ve elaborated on the, er, size if the problem when ‘Great Dane’ and ‘diarrhea’ are used in the same sentence. Beyond the risk of needing a major cleanup, it’s not fair for me to ask him to work when his tummy isn’t well.
When we’re out and about, he’s my steed, my regal Dane cane. For the countless times I’ve relied on him for support, the role sometimes switches. Good boy that he is, beneath his vest is a being who needs to lean on me.
After some extra ear scratches and belly rubs, instead of walking with him, I stepped onto the treadmill. I set my music player to ‘shuffle’ and of all the songs, this one queued up first: Fun’s: Walking the Dog. These particular lyrics are the ones I’m singing to Tommy (and Tommy sometimes sings to me):
. . . Stay on my side.
If you could see me
Whoever I am,
It’s not like a movie,
It’s not all skin and bones
I will not let you go.
Click here the whole song: (Fun: Walking the Dog)