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Phouka was very brave today. This was the first day she has walked all the way to the new office without being carried once, or even on leash. I was so proud of her and so impressed. It’s a long way to travel for a little, blind dog.
We knew she was loosing her sight, not uncommon in older pugs, but the vet thought she’d be okay until the new addition was finished. Unfortunately, she went blind before the build was finished, so my office which had been one of her most familiar paths and places became alien territory. Territory with a stone path through the new garage, and a longer flight of stairs, to a completely different arrangement of desks inside the office itself.
Phouka spends most week days in Darla’s office in the older part of the house on the first floor. No stairs, no new rooms, or new smells. Phouka has spent a lot of time on the couch in her favorite spot. Sometimes when she gets disoriented even in the old part of the house she’ll simply sit against a wall and wait for someone to find her, or just walk by.
Snow seems to really disorient her. We had about two inches of snow over night, and she was as lost as I’ve ever seen her this morning. I took my eyes off of her for a moment, then no little dog. I put the boys in the house and started looking for her. Usually, it’s just a matter of walking around the side of the house, and there she is, looking for me, but not today. Today, I had to follow her tracks in the snow. Trace her circling, then her choosing a direction and getting further and further away from our house. She was on the far side of our neighbor’s house, totally lost. I had to carry her home, because she was so convinced that she knew where she was, I couldn’t get her to follow me home. But she was going in the completely wrong direction, ever farther away. As bad luck will have it, she’d lost her tags a few days ago, and we meant to put them back on her collar, but hadn’t done it. I shudder to think what would have happened to our little pug if she’d been found. No tags, an older, blind dog. The life expectancy for a dog of her age with a disability at a shelter is very low. We have her micro chipped, but not every shelter checks. They’re supposed to, but accidents happen. To say that we’re going to be more careful in future is an understatement.
But right now she’s lying in one of the new dog beds with Sasquatch. They’re curled up in a fawn-colored pug pile. Pippin, our big black puppy is laying at my feet under the desk. There isn’t room for him and the two pugs on the new bed. We do have two beds in the new office that will hold everyone. There was even room for Jimmy when he was with us. Though, strangely, very rarely did all four dogs share the same bed. They do a sort of dogie version of musical chairs, until they find the bed that is just right. In the time it took me to write this paragraph Phouka is now under my desk with Sasquatch, and Pip is on the bed where they started. They’ve circled the room to return to where they started, sort of.
I’ve gone through the edits for BLOOD NOIR. Tomorrow begins the real work.
I’m feeling better today, and in case you were wondering I did go to see the doctor this week. I’m a workaholic, not stupid. Modern medicine is a lovely thing. Though watching HOUSE might convince you otherwise. It’s one of the shows that we don’t let Trinity watch with us, but frankly, sometimes I think HOUSE is too grown-up for me. And yes, I know that all the real nurses and doctors hate the medicine on the show. The same way that all the real police and forensic people hate CSI. I know it’s bad science, bad police work, but I still love CSI, and I still like HOUSE. Even when you know it’s wrong, it feels so right.