Weekend Summary
Let's see.....this weekend, I got to go up to visit with Dad and Dogzilla. Saturday was truly gorgeous. Sunny, with afternoon temperatures in the mid-70s and low humidity. Dad mowed a little grass and then settled in for an afternoon nap to the OSU-Youngstown football game. I'd trotted Dogzilla around the grounds once or twice, but I decided that it was so nice, we ought to go to the park. We haven't been to the park in forever, and I know Dogzilla always enjoys all the new sniffs he gets there.
The days are past, I think, when he could tackle the 3 mile trail that loops around the park, but there's a nice little 1.2 mile loop that is a nice jaunt for a chubby old beagle. Not too hilly and mostly in the shade, so he doesn't get too hot. He likes to ride in the car with me, probably because I rarely take him to the V-E-T in my car and we mostly go to the park. He lies on the front seat most of the time. The park is actually not far from the vet's office, so he has a couple nervous moments when he recognizes a certain intersection, but it passes quickly once he's confirmed we're going to the park. I usually snap his leash on his harness before I park the car because he is ready to jump out the door the minute we stop.
It was around 2:30, and the trails were practically deserted, so we had a nice quiet walk in the woods. I think the only things we disturbed were some young frogs near the pond. Dogzilla went to get a drink and they all hopped in. They were as green as spring grass against the brown bottom edge of the pond. Dogzilla noticed nothing, as usual, though. He was happy to hop into the car at the end of the walk, though, and spent the rest of the afternoon napping. I took him for a stroll across the street at the little shopping plaza after Dad and I got home from dinner. To his furry delight, someone had dropped some french fries and chicken nuggets on the sidewalk. I figured he'd sleep well once I finally got him tucked in with Dad for the night. Of course, just like a small child, he has to potty and have a drink of water and a bedtime snack before settling in. I am surprised he doesn't expect me to read him a story while we're at it.
Sure enough, Dogzilla slept until 3:30, which is his agreed upon breakfast time. So I got up and fed him and took him outside. Came back in and gave him his morning ration of fake dog bacon and tucked him back into bed with Dad, hoping he'd sleep until about 5:30, and went back to bed myself. I woke up around a quarter to seven! And not because I'd heard Dogzilla come in. Had a moment of fear that perhaps Dogzilla had expired in the night, either from our excursion to the park or from his questionable little snack there at the shopping plaza. Fortunately, any concerns I had were laid to rest the next instant when I heard his little dog tags jingling as he shook himself before leaping out of bed to come see if I was up. He's always so patient while I dress and make coffee, bless his furry little heart. It was a cool morning, so I was glad I'd brought a long sleeved t-shirt. We had a nice walk and picked up the paper on our way back home. Except for a few trips around the yard, and one final stroll around the shopping plaza, Dogzilla snoozed. And snoozed. Like, lying on his side, tongue practically hanging out snoozing. It doesn't take much to tucker the dear boy out these days, to be sure. Of course, according to the "Real Pet Age" test, he is somewhere in his 90s by beagle standards. I suppose when I am in my 90s, presuming that I am so blessed, I'll enjoy napping, eating and the occasional stroll around the block myself!
I realize that I have talked endlessly about Dogzilla, and very little about Dad. Well, he's fine too. We talked about the big Michigan upset and the Indians and getting new blinds for his bedroom. We read the paper together and had coffee. We went out to dinner on Saturday, and I cooked steak and corn on the cob for us today, along with some of the sweet-sour tomatoes that his mother used to make. He is always glad when I come up because I take care of Dogzilla and wear the hound out, so that he sleeps good. And I clean the kitchen and dust the living room and swab down the bathroom tub and other fixtures, along with any other little odds and ends or special projects Dad wants help with. I suppose my mother would have a seizure about the general state of the kitchen table, but I like to think that wherever she is, that stuff doesn't matter anymore, and what really does matter is that Dad and I talk and do things together, and I know that would please her no end.
Well, it's a beastly early day for me tomorrow. I have to go set gift cards at 6 a.m. YAWN!!! On the plus side, it's holiday pay! 'Night, all.
The days are past, I think, when he could tackle the 3 mile trail that loops around the park, but there's a nice little 1.2 mile loop that is a nice jaunt for a chubby old beagle. Not too hilly and mostly in the shade, so he doesn't get too hot. He likes to ride in the car with me, probably because I rarely take him to the V-E-T in my car and we mostly go to the park. He lies on the front seat most of the time. The park is actually not far from the vet's office, so he has a couple nervous moments when he recognizes a certain intersection, but it passes quickly once he's confirmed we're going to the park. I usually snap his leash on his harness before I park the car because he is ready to jump out the door the minute we stop.
It was around 2:30, and the trails were practically deserted, so we had a nice quiet walk in the woods. I think the only things we disturbed were some young frogs near the pond. Dogzilla went to get a drink and they all hopped in. They were as green as spring grass against the brown bottom edge of the pond. Dogzilla noticed nothing, as usual, though. He was happy to hop into the car at the end of the walk, though, and spent the rest of the afternoon napping. I took him for a stroll across the street at the little shopping plaza after Dad and I got home from dinner. To his furry delight, someone had dropped some french fries and chicken nuggets on the sidewalk. I figured he'd sleep well once I finally got him tucked in with Dad for the night. Of course, just like a small child, he has to potty and have a drink of water and a bedtime snack before settling in. I am surprised he doesn't expect me to read him a story while we're at it.
Sure enough, Dogzilla slept until 3:30, which is his agreed upon breakfast time. So I got up and fed him and took him outside. Came back in and gave him his morning ration of fake dog bacon and tucked him back into bed with Dad, hoping he'd sleep until about 5:30, and went back to bed myself. I woke up around a quarter to seven! And not because I'd heard Dogzilla come in. Had a moment of fear that perhaps Dogzilla had expired in the night, either from our excursion to the park or from his questionable little snack there at the shopping plaza. Fortunately, any concerns I had were laid to rest the next instant when I heard his little dog tags jingling as he shook himself before leaping out of bed to come see if I was up. He's always so patient while I dress and make coffee, bless his furry little heart. It was a cool morning, so I was glad I'd brought a long sleeved t-shirt. We had a nice walk and picked up the paper on our way back home. Except for a few trips around the yard, and one final stroll around the shopping plaza, Dogzilla snoozed. And snoozed. Like, lying on his side, tongue practically hanging out snoozing. It doesn't take much to tucker the dear boy out these days, to be sure. Of course, according to the "Real Pet Age" test, he is somewhere in his 90s by beagle standards. I suppose when I am in my 90s, presuming that I am so blessed, I'll enjoy napping, eating and the occasional stroll around the block myself!
I realize that I have talked endlessly about Dogzilla, and very little about Dad. Well, he's fine too. We talked about the big Michigan upset and the Indians and getting new blinds for his bedroom. We read the paper together and had coffee. We went out to dinner on Saturday, and I cooked steak and corn on the cob for us today, along with some of the sweet-sour tomatoes that his mother used to make. He is always glad when I come up because I take care of Dogzilla and wear the hound out, so that he sleeps good. And I clean the kitchen and dust the living room and swab down the bathroom tub and other fixtures, along with any other little odds and ends or special projects Dad wants help with. I suppose my mother would have a seizure about the general state of the kitchen table, but I like to think that wherever she is, that stuff doesn't matter anymore, and what really does matter is that Dad and I talk and do things together, and I know that would please her no end.
Well, it's a beastly early day for me tomorrow. I have to go set gift cards at 6 a.m. YAWN!!! On the plus side, it's holiday pay! 'Night, all.
posted by Mel at 8:31 PM
2 Comments:
Hey Mel, your weekend sounds like mine, except that I spent time with my mom in rehab and washed her hair for her, and then spent a great deal of time trying to wear out Stella-the-dog-from-Hell.
Violet
Good to see you're blogging more! Sounds like a good weekend with the family!
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