This morning I discovered a cachet of toys (raw hide bone and 2 fuzzy squeaky animals) carefully arranged atop of the doggie bed. Happiness is an active playful puppy. Wanna go outside? You had better make way or else you'll be trampled as he bolts down the stairs (oops sorry Owen when Smokey knocked you over!) Galloping back into the house he investigates his empty food bowl, only to gaze up at me, as if to say did you forget to feed me? Gobbling up his 2 (plus a little to grow on) cups of Purina Pro Plan before running upstairs to give B some chicken flavored wake-up kisses. Smokey is better, and against my better judgment returned to Doggie-day-care this week. His dad reported he was ecstatic when dropped off, and returned in the evening blissfully spent. So life goes on. The worst possible scenario averted this time. We'll leave the interesting veterinary cases for the academics, we're glad to have our happy puppy back.
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