As I try to concentrate on my NaNoWriMo novel, I find that I am worrying about our eldest dog, Wynn. Adapted for icy conditions found only in my fridge here in Texas, he has become prone to sliding across the tile floor and straining his hip. This is directly influenced by his need to see what's on the counter, what's out the door, or possible, what's on the other side of the retriever. Pop! Forepaws off the floor and fuzzy hind paws sliding out. Safe! Or not, as the case too often is. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to be in pain, at least not the kind of pain that results in yelps and guilt-inducing brown eyed stares. Instead, this is the kind of pain that keeps his left hind leg tucked tight to his body and morphs his gait into that of dog-rabbit.
This is not the calm influence of the retriever's tendency to nap. Except for balancing 70 pounds on my left ribcage last night (resulting in an all-day twinge today), the retriever tends to be a very relaxed dog. He is laying beside me on the floor, treating his forepaw as all-day sucker and waiting for my SO to come home so that he can relocate to the more gastronomically advantageous areas of the kitchen.
Somehow, this is converting some of the stress of the day into actually peace. I sometimes wish I could take the retriever to work, so that we could all pile on the couch for some much-needed relaxation. In the meantime, I guess I really to get some work done.
Peace and dog kisses,
Chrissa
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