Getting Old Might Have Its Perks

It has been bitterly cold here this week.  It's been so cold your breath freezes in the air and shatters like glass.  The weather men have been warning people not to go out if they don't have to.  Of course, we do have to venture out several times a day to take the dogs out to the bathroom and the dogs really aren't that thrilled with the arrangement.

The girls each have their own way of dealing with the cold.   Bunny runs and jumps around, keeping her circulation going, although also occasionally forgetting to actually do what she's out there to do.  Blueberry is very matter of fact about it, getting the job done and then whining pitifully at the gate.  The one I'm really worried about though, is Lilac. 

Since her incident in September when I thought she was dying, she's been a bit weaker in the back end.  It hasn't impeded her too much, but I've noticed that she's a bit slower getting up and down.  I don't believe that Mr. Taleteller or I have ever had a dog as old as she is.  She'll be fifteen this year and that's pretty advanced for a greyhound.  The cold seems to have been really tough on her, though.  Her feet are very sensitive because of the SLO and it's so cold that none of the girls want to have their feet on the ground outside, so I imagine it's worse for her.  So, I've tried to be understanding when she comes to me at odd times, wanting to go out.  I think it's tough for her to concentrate on going outside in the cold and also a little treacherous.

Today as I sat inside with them, enjoying the last week of my break and being happy for my warm house, I began to notice  a smell that dog owners know well.  I looked around.  None of the girls had gotten up in over an hour.  Lilac was comfortable on the big orthopedic bed in her purple jammies.  Blueberry had her nest of beds arranged just the way she liked them and Bunny was curled up against me on the couch.  None of them had gotten up in over an hour, so nobody could  have left any sort of surprise on the floor.

I looked around at each of them, though, just to be sure, but they were all busy doing what greyhounds do best -- napping.  I went back to chatting with my friend on the computer, figuring it was just gas.  Over the next hour, my eyes began to water as this gas attack continued.  I knew that nobody had eaten anything unusual that should have produced this noxious odor, but I feared that men in hazmat suits were going to be knocking on the door at any minute to escort us out into the cold.  I thought I might have to take some sort of drastic measure, but I'm pretty sure that any of the solutions I could have come up with would be illegal.

For some reason, as another gag-inducing wave of nausea overtook me, I glanced over at Lilac.  Her jammies had hitched up a bit as she'd stretched and there it sat!  A turdlet with enough noxious power to fell even Superman, had he been in the area to help.  I rushed to the bathroom to get toilet paper and dispose of the offending lump, which was surprisingly small for the amount of stink it produced.  Sure enough, as I was picking it up, she had to roll over and smoosh just a tiny bit of it in the back of her jammies as she turned to investigate what I was doing back there.  So, I go back to the bathroom for more toilet paper, pick up the rest and flush it.  Then I return to take off her jammies to throw them in the wash. 

After this incident, I decided that I had to alter things outside for her a bit.  While I put the two hooligans in the dog pen, I walked Lilac by herself in the snow and gave her the chance to get her potty break over quickly and get back inside faster.  She seemed pretty pleased with herself as we walked past the dog pen and Bunny and Blueberry stood inside staring at her.  I began to wonder if it could be possible that she orchestrated the whole thing for preferential treatment.

Once back inside, she seemed put out that I hadn't gotten the food ready while we were outside at the same time.  Fortunately, she didn't see fit to bark at me about it this time and let me know that I wasn't moving fast enough.  She did forgive me when I put a little bit of leftover chicken in with the kibble, though.  I guess old age does have to have a few privileges, and honestly, I'm glad to have her here so that we can give them to her.  I'll just hope that she doesn't grace our presence with any more turdlets, fresh or recycled.