A Four-Legged Baby

Many, many years ago, before I was married, before I even had kids, when it was just me and there was no one around to say "no", I saw someone giving puppies away in the grocery store parking lot. So I took one. On a whim. Terrible way to get a new pet, but just look at this face:

He was so LITTLE! And so CUTE!

I named him "Malenchki", roughly "Little One" in Russian. He stayed short, but not so little in other ways, earning the nickname "sausage dog". I told people he was half Rottweiler, half dachshund.

He was already getting on in years when Christopher came along,

Did someone say, "treat"?

and most of my kids have grown up with him. Sure, he'll eat anything remotely resembling food, and the comparisons to Walter the Farting Dog were definitely made when that book came out, but all in all he has been a good dog.

He is now 14 years old, which is something like 342 in dog years. His eyes are cloudy, but just try tossing a treat in the air near him - it will never hit the floor!

He is also starting to move a little slowly, but then, so am I. I figured it was a little rheumatism, and slipped him half a Rimadyl on days he seemed to be a bit stiff. It doesn't slow him down - even with food and water available on the deck, he insists on running up and down the steps, wrestling with the bigger dogs. The sofa is a bit of a tricky jump on slick floors, so we got him a nice, soft bed.

Which he shares with his best buddy, Baby Alice (also no longer a baby). Sometimes she takes more than her fair share. He doesn't seem to begrudge it.

His face is a bit whiter now, but he's perky as ever.

Trust me, when he's conscious, he's perky.

Then Daddy noticed one hip was swollen - like, really swollen. Oh, great, I thought, he dislocated it wrestling with the husky. In to the vet the next morning for x-rays.

The good news is, his hip wasn't dislocated. They don't think so, anyway - it was hard to see the bones on the x-rays, what with the way the cancer has spread.

He took the news pretty well: "So, we're at the vet, and vets have treats. Where's my treat?" He got extra-special treats to have each morning, and as long as those work, we'll just continue on as is. We try to make him stay inside on chilly days, but he wants to be outside, enjoying life with his buddies.

There's a lesson in there somewhere, don't you think?