Friday, October 8, 2010

I might be dead soon. So you should probably be nice to me while you can.

You know how they say some animals can predict when people are going to die?

Yeah, well my lab is following me around so closely that I have literally stopped short a few times only to have her halfway up my ass before I even knew what was going on. (as I type, she is laying on my feet.)

This is a dog who, in prior times, could only be roused from her vigorous laying around by the sound of the refrigerator door opening or the smell of take out. Occasionally she could be tempted by her rope, but only if it was accompanied by the words, "wanna play catch?" and a look that told tales of hours worth of fetching a slobber covered rope.

Of course, that was all prior to her losing our other dog and then becoming too old to want to rouse herself for much of anything. For the most part, we'd just be bringing the people foods to her out of sympathy and knowledge that - at 11 plus - her dog-days were numbered anyway, so how bad could some extra pizza crusts be?

However, recently, she has been glued to my side in a borderline obnoxious way. And it's not even just when I go to the kitchen - which I could sort of understand/forgive. No. She follows me to the bathroom, to Callie's room, to basically anywhere I go.

I shower, she waits on the bathmat.

I pee, she lays on the tile.

I get dressed, she lays in front of my bureau.

I type pointless blogs, she keeps my feet warm.

(which would actually be kinda nice except for the fact that every time I have to get up to refill my drink, I have to do this ninja like gravity-defying step over her sprawled out form.)

((which she then gets up from to follow me into the kitchen in time to get in the way of the refrigerator door opening at all.))

I am pretty sure she's trying to tell me something.

Either I'm going soon or she is. And while she is the older of us, I am probably the unhealthier. In fact, I'd take some over/under bets on it being my liver, despite the pre-existing holes in my brain. Not that I know if you can actually make over/under bets on something that isn't technically numerical in value. It's sort of a fuzzy subject for me, as I've been drinking since before I started writing this. (But really, that should skew the odds drastically, no?)

Although, with as close as she has been following me? I could be the first ever recorded death by dog-enima.

Just sayin.

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