Let’s go!
Looked at her… go where?
We already sniffed around the lamp post this morning.
Mom grabbed my leash and opened the front door – Go in the car Fudges.
I leapt up (in my shuffling, rambly sort of leapy way that I now leap) and trotted to the door.
Mom hefted me into the car and off we went.
Turned out the destination was not exactly to my choosing.
We were visiting Dr Dean.
We walked into the waiting room and mom pointed at the scale.
On you get Fudges – let’s see how much you weigh now.
Perhaps not hey?
FUDGIE!
Said mom in her capital letter voice… GET ON.
So I got on.
The little red numbers flickered on the screen… 33, 34, 35… Eventually they stopped at 35.9.
I hopped off quickly.
Hmmmm said mom – not so bad!
Then she jerked like something had hit her… wait a moment…
Holy #@%& Fudge – she used some language not for a doglet’s ears – you’ve put on nearly 10 kgs.
Luckily two cutie girls arrived at that moment.
They ooohed, aaahed and gushed over how they had never seen such a gorgeous dog.
Then the one spoilt it all – she’s so fat on such sort legs.
Hroof!
Certainly did not need to hear any more of that type of talk.
Went under a chair to sulk.
Dr Dean materialized and smiled at me.
I smiled back at him.
Oh dear, he gasped, we can’t blame this on the cortisone.
Can’t blame what?
What is he babbling about?
We all tootled off to his office and he hefted my own furry self onto his table.
Mom explained that I’d had several epileptic fits over the last few months and he said I’d have to go on pills.
And I would also have to go on diet.
There was nothing wrong with my back paws other than the fact that my body was too heavy for them.
Eish! How rude.
We went home.
That night mom gave me dinner.
I looked at it, sniffed it and walked away.
I think not.
I’d rather starve.
Next day – against all the rules – mom added a bit of scrambled egg to my breakfast.
I ate it begrudgingly.
Must say though – the pills are not too shabby.
They are ham covered pills.
Hope they work.
