The past several days have turned from constant dog watch, worrying that a beloved member of our family was on his way out the door to the tree, squirrel and fire hydrant filled backyard in the sky, to days full of hope and Christmas cheer. Yes, our family pet, the stinky, floppy-eared basset hound that I alternately want to pet and strangle on many days seems to have made a full recovery.
The poop and vomit left behind on our floors has been moved outside where it belongs. The shivering and listlessness has given way to tail wagging and inquisitive trots through the house whenever he thinks he has heard a visitor enter. In short, he's gone back to being the lovable, quirky, sometimes annoying pet that he has always been.
I thank all of your who read my melancholy posts regarding his health over the past several days and looked fondly back with me at the great memories he has provided our family. I honestly believe that your thoughts and prayers have helped him recover from whatever it was that had stricken his stomach.
And it couldn't have happened at a better time. With Christmas right around the corner, dealing with the loss of such a constant lovable family member would have been tough to bear. It would have taken the Christmas spirit out of me even faster than stepping on his bloody feces while walking through my living room... barefoot.