Sometimes it’s not easy being a dog. Don’t get me wrong: I love my family. I really do. And after living for months in an animal shelter, I’m really grateful to be in a house with my own dog bed, dog toys, and best of all, my own supper dish. My human parents treat me very well most of the time. They take me for walks, play with me, and give me lots of attention. Plus, I’ve got them trained to be very generous with the dog treats.
But there are still times when it’s hard to be a dog living in a house that is run by humans. Because sometimes humans say and do things that don’t make any sense at all.
For instance, our house has two beds, three couches, and five upholstered chairs. Every single piece of that furniture is absolutely perfect for curling up and sleeping on. I know, because I’ve done it. They’re incredibly soft and comfortable, and obviously designed for a good nap. But what happens whenever Mom or Dad finds me sleeping on them? I get told to get down, that’s what. And not too nicely, either. Sometimes they even call me a bad dog.
Thunderstorms are another example. Whenever I hear the rumble of thunder, or even sense the change in atmosphere that tells me a storm is coming, I do the only sensible thing and hide. Everyone knows that when the end of the world is so obviously imminent, your only chance is to find a safe spot to ride it out. But do my parents join me? Nope. They just go on about their business, acting as if nothing is wrong. Sometimes (and I swear I’m not making this up), they even put on their raincoats and leave the house. I can hear them driving off, leaving me all alone to face the danger.
But the weirdest stuff started a couple of months ago, when the vet told my Mom that I had tested positive for heart worm. I didn’t think it was such a big deal, since worms are rather common in the dog world, but my parents freaked out. No more walks for me, or games of fetch. Dad even fenced off most of the yard so I didn’t have much room to run around. Worst of all, they switched me to a low-calorie dog food. It doesn’t taste nearly as good as my regular food, but I had to eat it anyway.
They made me go to the vet twice to get some injections, and I can tell you that dogs don’t like to get shots any more than people do. The second time I even had to spend the night at the vet’s office. Whatever was in that shot made me feel sore and tired for a long time, but gradually I began to feel better. Still, I wondered if I’d ever get my normal life back.
Thankfully, my vet has decided that the heart worms are gone, and my parents have calmed down. Dad even took down that ugly temporary fence, so now I can go behind the garage and hunt for varmits. The rabbits, squirrels and chipmunks have gotten really bold during the time I’ve been on restrictions, but I’ll soon put an end to that.
So, I guess there’s hope for my parents after all. If they can figure out that dogs are supposed to be able to go for walks and play in the back yard, they might figure out the other stuff too. Maybe they’ll even join me under the chair the next time there’s a thunderstorm. And if we don’t all fit under there, I’ve got some diet dog food I’d gladly share….