The little things
It really is the little things sometimes that make things worthwhile. For me, for today, the dog jumped on the couch. Yes, this was a good thing. Let me explain. We have two corgis. At 10 months, Viggo had to have a femoral head osteotomy (FHO) because he had hip displasia. This meant he had no hip joint in that hip. Scar tissue would form a false joint and he’d need to keep muscular in order to do well for the rest of his life.
It went well. He was fine. Right up until a year later when he had to have the other hip done. Yes, he’s a very expensive dog. Anyhow, we went through all the rehab and he has been getting around fine. Running, wrestling, going up and down stairs, and generally being a hooligan. But. He wouldn’t jump. In order to jump in the car, he’d want to be on the curb. And forget jumping into the truck. That is, unless he was terrified by thunder, in which case he would run upstairs and jump onto my office chair (which is not low and is on rollers).
Anyhow, over the last few months, he’s been managing to jump into the truck (with the help of running boards) and trying to jump up on us a little. So he was trying. And tonight, I was sitting on the couch reading to the girlie, and he was giving me the sad eyes stare, and so I patted the couch and what do you know, he hopped right up like it was easy.
So there was celebration. It’s a small thing, but for us kind of a big deal.
In other news, there’s not a lot of other news.
Oh, but here. A small Blood Winter Snippet from the day:
“Am not,” he said with a grimace, his cheeks blotching brick red. “What do you want to do now?” he asked, shifting the subject quickly.
Max scanned the surrounding damage. “We’re not going to get any answers here tonight. They have too many wounds to lick. We should move on.”
“So start a war and run? Sounds like a plan to me.”
“We didn’t start anything.”
He snorted. “Like the Japanese weren’t all that involved in World War II.”