Sadly, the poor dog leeched onto me for dear life from the second I got her.
Only as she’s getting near The Bridge has she accepted “dad’s” affection and pats.
I’m her ‘safe spot’ and when I have to leave the house, she gets pretty upset.
It’s been a long 9 years.
But then, she’ll have a good day and rub her head against my leg and ‘chuckle’.
[she really is laughing]
How can you not love that?
Poor Pookie.
She deserved better.
She’s *such* a good dog.
To add insult to injury, her beloved sister Phoebe passed away last month from multiple health issues related to her immune system.
She really, -really- loved Phoebe.
Gypsy, bless her crazy little heart, has started to love up to Pookie and try and engage her in crazy-play.
Pookie’s old body is really not up to it so she just wags her tail and barks happily at Gypsy as she runs circles around her.
Sometimes I feel like such a failure.
I want to make their lives perfect but never seem to get all the way there.
I imagine that if she could speak English, she would say the only way to make it more perfect would be: more bacon.