I'm beginning to suspect that Dog has been watching 'Little Britain' during her recuperation. Specifically, the Lou and Andy sketches.
On the walk this morning, she lagged behind puffing. Her look, once she reached me and staggered through the gate, suggested "Oh, don't you worry about me - I'm sure I'll be able to stagger home (provided I get a biscuit) before I succumb to old age."
Then tonight. She's not usually allowed upstairs. But, when she was unwell prior to her stroke and the OH was out most nights, she was allowed upstairs to the spare room I use as an office. A fantastic treat apparently. But she hasn't been able to climb since her stroke and has been sitting at the bottom of the stairs, midway between OH and me. Tonight, as he wasn't home yet, I gave her a sweet and told her to "Stay" on her blanket at the bottom. She accepted this offer gratefully. Apparently.
Then, a few minutes later, there was the sound of puffing and scrabbling. Dog is stuck half-way up the stairs.
"Oh, don't worry about me - I just want to lie down devotedly by your side until old age claims me" she beseeches. (Subtext: I just want to join you in your room so I can eat your crisps, make disgusting smells and blame them on you). But I help her up anyway.
Because she has still got a drunken sailor's wobble following her stroke. And an endearingly confused look about her. And she is thirteen and going blind. And I know she won't be around for much longer. (The deafness may or may not be assumed.)
But the Andy act would be a bit more believable if, prior to the 'I'm about to collapse' walk this morning, I hadn't seen her streak down the field after a rabbit. Nor on this afternoon's walk, dive into a bramble patch and try to dig out a rabbit from its burrow. Nor this evening, when having made it up to my room with a hoist from behind, she tried sneakily to consume the chocolate snowmen I have bought for my nephew and nieces.
Hmmm. I think she's recovering.
Yippeeeeeeee!
