
(It was not my intention to put Herman's Hermits in your head all day; apologies for title).
Here's the dog whose name should have been Moxie but is instead Zoe Mae. She's my force of nature, my inner intractable rebellious unstoppable and preternaturally (thank you, Anne Rice) focused beast.
Does she want a walk? A treat? Is this the same old fight over giving her the car keys?
But on this very quiet morning, after the blizzard of posts here and e-mails to klevine@npr.org (that address is good for another three weeks), and the blizzard of sorts settling outside, even Zoe Mae is sleeping, as is her snoring beagle sister Starlet. She's the one with the incontinence I mentioned in passing yesterday, that several of you seemed anxious to know about. And I thought my obsessions were unbalanced...
Well, if we are talking dogs then I will say that of late, whenever Starry does her beagle thing and props up pillows and blankets to cover the pea lurking somewhere in her bedding (Princess and the Pea, remember that one?) , she now "releases" everything from drops to tablespoons worth of urine. It's become chronic and really tiresome.
No, no infection. Blood work fine. Food hasn't changed. Certainly somewhat related to the steriod she has to take for her even more tiresome allergies, but she's been on them a while and the incontinence is about a month or so old.
I take excellent care of my animals (read: pre-emptive strike). However, I don't love this little dog as much as I'd hoped to. I got her two years ago, she's probably about 9 yrs old now, and wherever she's been, she was likely always starved and ready to run away. She is sweet and has her endearing qualities, I love sharing the covers with her and have learned to sleep through her snoring, but once she's stirred, I am the first to admit she is a royal pain in the ass.
I don't suppose anyone else has an animal like that, huh.

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Why be Anonymous? After all, I've showed you mine.