oh lord help us

On good days it takes the R-dog about five minutes to get in and out of the house through the doggie door. I think largely because she's always been unaware of exactly how big she is and how much space she actually occupies. Which makes her tremendously klutzy. Now that she's an old, old lady, and the arthritis is starting to creep in and it takes her 10 minutes to even stand up let alone squeeze through not just one flap, but two, it takes her a really long time to get her butt through the wall of the house.

This morning I was sitting here, on the couch, doing a little surfing when I heard some commotion coming from the mud room where said doggie door is located. I didn't really think anything about it because I also just brought home a new bag of dog food and there's nothing more exciting in her world than when a fresh new 40lbs of dry, crunchy, made from things I'd rather not think about, finally something she can eat, gets set down somewhere where she can actually smell it, so I figured she was just rooting around trying to figure out a way to get into the bag.

Then, banging and a lot of sighing. And Gus came into the living room and looked at me imploringly. Then more banging. And more sighing loudly. So, I get up off the couch and go investigate. Somehow, she got one of her front legs trapped in some rubber part of the dog door. She was just sitting there staring at it, obviously wondering how the hell that had just happened and not really sure how to resolve the situation.

Anyone who says that dogs could survive on their own in the wild obviously hasn't ever met the R-dog.


tina f. said...

Awww! Sweet girl. Such a sweet, old and totally uncoordinated girl.

d said...

i know. it was hilarious.