Old dogs

This is Barney and he is twelve and a half years old. He is exceedingly fluffy, he smells terrible, does nothing but sleep, and he snores incredibly loudly. He has the kind of life that makes me think it's pretty good to be a housepet. But he's really clearly getting old - just over the last few months I've noticed that he's developed a paranoia about heights. He used to take flying leaps into the back of my mom's mini-SUV, and now he won't even climb into the back of my minivan when it's pulled up to the curb, and that's not a very high climb. He had a kind of rough fall one time when he tried it and now he insists on being carried. Which is only okay because he's only about 35 lbs and it's not very far.

But I love him, and that's why he gets a blog post with two photos today. Because isn't he pretty?

Yes?

I thought so.

The things you miss when you don't live here.

So I was about to walk my dog earlier today (smoke and ash or not, Barney still needs to go outside), but we'd barely gotten out the front door when I noticed a hulking pit-bull looking creature lurking at the edge of the cul-de-sac. Now, I am not the kind of person who is inclined to think that pitbulls are evil by virtue of being pitbulls, and in fact if your pitbull is on a leash and you tell me they are friendly, I will be all over that dog like "Oh my god I am so happy to see you, PUPPY." However this thing was unleashed and huge and wandering around the neighborhood. So I took Barnie out in the back yard and then went to go see where the huge beast had gone off to.

I tracked it back to my neighbor's house, where it had gone back into the back yard on its own but the gate was open. I knocked on the front door.

"Hey, um, do you own a huge pitbull-looking dog?"

"She's a mastiff, but yes."

"Your gate's open, she was down by the cul-de-sac, but she came back on her own, I think."

Which is always a kind of weird thing to be like. I mean, "Your dog's out" is one thing, but "Your dog's out, but she came back, and in fact I don't know what I'm doing here" is another.

And then all 140 lbs of mastiff (named Xena, apparently?!) came lumbering over to say hi and drooled all over me and was generally a sweetheart and it turns out it was kind of dumb that I was scared of her, but probably still good that I didn't let Barnie get near her because he's kind of dog-agressive, and weighs about a sixth as much as her. And I still think it's reasonable to be cautious of a huge dog wandering around by itself, even if you are generally a dog person, because it's not a dog that you know and it could do some serious damage. But I also thought it was interesting how quickly I changed from "stay away!" to "hello come here let me rub your belly" as soon as I was told the dog was friendly.

Anyways, that's about all for the moment.

Today was surreal.

Dad and I took the dog to the vet for an annual checkup. He's officially geriatric. (Eleven years?!) We got Barney when I was in first grade, and while I know he's not exactly a puppy anymore, I don't like thinking about the fact that he's officially old. He doesn't act old, but the chart at the vet's said he's the rough equivalent of a 65-year-old human. I politely disagree, but it doesn't change the fact that today I was sent into Target to buy antacid.

For my dog.

And as I tried to get out of there as quickly as possible, clutching my box of antacid (and nothing else), feeling like antacid is right up there with condoms, feminine hygiene products, and pregnancy tests as "things that are embarrassing to get caught buying," who did I run into but...

My first grade teacher, who happens to also be my neighbor.

Lamely, I confessed that I was buying antacid for my dog.

She told me her dog was constipated.

I told her I couldn't really talk because my dad and my dog were both waiting for me in the car.

It was awkward and kind of hilarious.

Also, even though my dog has bitten him before, the veterinarian likes him because the vet is Irish and my dog is a Wheaten Terrier [an Irish breed]? They put him in a muzzle now whenever we take him there. He doesn't like shots very much. :|

My poor geriatric dog.