There's nothing like life with an elderly dog to really humble you. If you're not familiar with our blog, Lilac is our senior Greyhound here and she's fifteen and a half years old. I believe the average life expectancy for a Greyhound is from twelve to fourteen years old, so our old lady really is quite aged at this point.
It's been an interesting week at our house. To start with, Lilac has gone on strike. When the weather gets cold it's tough on the older hounds. We try not to leave them out longer than we have to and to make things as bearable for them as we can. It seems that we've come to an impasse in this area. Lilac is suffering from a lot of weakness in her back end. She does okay when she's walking around, but standing in one place is tough for her and it doesn't take long to see her back half start to sag to the ground. To get in our back door, you have to climb five steps. These steps are difficult for the old lady to climb. She would really prefer to avoid them. This leads to a stand off at the back door every night. I am more than happy to carry her up the back steps. However, Lilac's pride can't accept this. So, I reel her in gently with the leash and we have a little chat at the back door as I hold it open and try to cajole her to just walk in the door so I can help her. Once I push her in the door, she gives me a dirty look and hauls herself onto the steps before I can maneuver to stop her.
Tuesday night I arrived home to see that Mr. Taleteller was home early. I thought maybe his excitement about going to class that night with Morgan had motivated him to leave a little early to get ready. It turns out that it was not the case. He'd stopped by home late in the afternoon on his lunch break and had to call the office to tell them he wouldn't be back in. It turns out that one of our breakfast dishes in the sink had something irresistable on it. Lilac decided to counter surf and broke one of her bad toenails in the process. She has SLO so this happens on occasion at our house. Mr. Taleteller bandaged her up to keep her from bleeding on anything else and set to work on cleaning up the kitchen. He tells me that it looked like a scene from a horror movie with blood all over the sink, counter, kitchen floor, dog beds, living room carpet and probably still hidden in some nooks and crannies that we haven't discovered yet. It was so much fun wrapping Blueberry and Lilac in matching IV bags over their wrapped up feet for turn out. Fortunately, we only had to leave Lilac bandaged up for a few hours until the bleeding stopped.
Thursday night we had steak for dinner. Lilac, Blueberry and Morgan all gathered around to gaze at me adoringly as I began to eat my dinner. None of them is ready for an Academy Award yet because I didn't believe for a minute that any of them was more devoted to me than they were to the steak I was cutting. This steak had a bone in it and as I sat trying to cut it on a tray, Lilac walked up and decided to take matters into her own, erm, mouth. Right in front of me she reached up over the edge of the tray like a Great White Shark surfacing to attack its prey. I pulled the plate away and scolded her. She smirked at me and went for it again. I feared there would be a wrestling match between the two of us over my steak, and I wasn't sure I'd be the victor. In the end, I did eat my steak, and there was a bite for each of the dogs after it was over.
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