Lambiedog

Back from medical leave

    

A couple of weeks ago I had surgery to remove a mast cell tumor. It hadn't metastasized to key organs, but watchful waiting is the new world order.

   The experience brought me down.  All that poking and prodding. The pain. The anesthesia. The meds. The anxiety.  The Elizabethan collar.

 

    I was miserable.  For a while I lay low and let it all roll over me. 

Finally I rebounded.  On our 'walks' I stopped asking to be carried. I relocated the spring in my step.  Now I pal around with Snoopy, sniffing at this and that. I race down to visit Buggsy and Beverly.

 Sadly, however, Buggsy is actually no longer there to visit:  In July he had a fatal accident. His family misses him a lot -- he was dearly loved.  Below is a photo of him from 2014.  He's the dog on the left, standing next to Beverly and David.

    When I go to their house I still always search for him.  First Beverly gives me a treat, and then I do a check of the house to see if I can find him.

     

Relaxing with the newspaper

     At the close of the day I like to sit in my recliner chair and catch up on all the news that's fit to print, even if it is sometimes over my head.

Brothers home

My brothers have been home recently.

Two of them were here at the same time.

  Soon after they left, the third brother arrived.

I basked in the company.  While they were here it felt like Camelot, with The Most Important Guy front and center.

           

But now I'm back to my dreary life, making do with whatever dregs of attention I can get.

Sleepover

I went on a sleepover at the Ons' house.

We packed my valise, loaded it into the car, and drove over to Sherman Oaks.

 

 

I've been there many times.  I know Teresa.  I know Roger.  I know their cat, Pumpy.  Also, Kevin was home from college for spring break.  We've spent some good times in the past carousing together. 

 So I ran right in and made myself at home, while Teresa and my owner reviewed my daily routine.

 

Then my owner left.

         

After I got over my shock, it turned out that life was pretty good at the Ons'.

I had affection, exercise, and, to keep things interesting, an adversary.

    In fact, I was treated like a king, and I responded in kind.  Roger and Teresa were a bit surprised when I insisted on joining them under the covers.

I did wonder when my owner would be coming back. 

Of course, I knew that, like the song says, she always comes back -- she never would forget me.

Possible role for me as stressbuster

    As students return to school after spring break, I have been evaluating an interesting career direction. My inspiration was a holiday happening at Columbia University, where, as a 'stressbuster' for students preparing for finals, Columbia puppies were brought in for petting.  Long lines formed for a chance to pet the puppies.

    That gave me an idea:  Why not sign myself up to provide the same service?  Puppies are cute, but so am I.  And, as a man of the world, I think I may provide a more nuanced petting opportunity than that delivered by young pups.  With student finals coming up in the next couple of months, an enterprising dog could capitalize on all the freefloating anxiety out there.

    Some naysayers may look at my track record and temperament, and argue that I am too laden with freefloating anxiety myself to function well as a stressbuster for others.  But let's look more closely at what makes me nervous and what doesn't. The record shows that I love being petted by strangers.  I just don't like them picking me up and carrying me. 

    Look at the images below and you can see what a natural I'd be as a petting Stressbuster.

 

    My contract will just have to provide for a bodyguard on hand to keep people from picking me up.  Also, there will have to be a clause giving me approval over any sweater I am asked to wear.

Batdog

Contemplating the sunset with Thomas

It's great to have him home.

Attachment theory

       [Note to followers of my weight travails:  The dog pictured above is not me!] 

It is well known that I like to be carried and can become quite relaxed in this state.

    But I am not that unusual, at least within a select population.  Here's a little gallery of other fluffy white dogs who appreciate a close human connection:

       

There's just something very relaxing about close proximity to your owner.

Not everyone gets that. Sometimes people seeing me at ease with my head hanging down think that I am feeling ill.

But I'm not.  Just at ease.

 

Happy Mother's Day

Letter from a loved one

Thomas sent the following response to my most recent post:

lambie! i think about you all the time, i can't wait to play with you when i get back to la on dec 22! by the way, i found this photo of you, lookin pretty cool...

love,
thomas