We met a puppy today during our walk. Black lab. He rolled on his back as we approached and flipped back after Tuck gave him the once over with his snout.
The two dogs sniffed and bounded around each other while the dog-Moms (me and the puppy’s owner) chatted. Her dog is nine months old. Mine is nine years old.
That’s hard to believe, she said. He acts like a puppy.
You should have seen him a couple of months ago. I could barely get him to take a walk, I said. Then he started taking thyroid medicine and he is going through a second puppyhood.
He wants to play, play, play all day long. And walk. And run. And play some more.
At first, I was on the fence about giving him meds that he probably will have to take for the rest of his life. Now, I’m a true believer.
When he was dragging around for those last couple of months before I took him in for blood work, I knew something was off. He was acting strange. But it wasn’t until his thyroid kicked back into gear that I realized that his energy had been draining for a lot longer than a few months. I’d forgotten what he was like when he was full of energy; it had been so long.
So now, every night, I get down on the floor with him and we “wrestle” the way we did when he was a puppy. After awhile I poop out on him.
That’s when he goes in search of Daddy.
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