Diary of a neglected dog.

Dear Diary,

Please don't tell anyone, but I don't think my stay-at-home human a.k.a. My Typist a.k.a. My Nutritionist loves me anymore.

You can see how sad I am.

She's been sitting in front of the computer for 3 days now, and late into the night too. My bedsheets haven't been washed in a week. She's stopped cuddling me on the couch because she's never on the couch. She almost forgot to feed Mr Thumper and me our afternoon tea 2 days ago.

In fact, about the only good thing that's happened this week, is that she's been forgetting to eat HER lunch too. If she continues like this, she might be able to wear something that doesn't look like a tent soon.

Yesterday, I didn't get to eat at all.

???*!&^^ :( ??? I can hear you thinking.

I was SO hungry.

By 2 in the morning, I was starving, so I went upstairs to see if there was anything to eat there. All I found were my 2 humans, snoring away. I wondered for a moment if they My Typist might miss a toe, or 2 at the most, if I gave them just a teeny-tiny chew. But I'm A Lady, and decided it was better to go hungry than hurt her, even if she hadn't remembered to feed me for a whole day.

All the time, my tummy kept grumbling at me. I had to try to console it, "I'm sorry, LittleTummy. What can I do? It's not like there's a garbage bin nearby that I can tip over for scraps. Please don't be sad, LittleTummy. I'm sure she'll remember to feed us tomorrow. Try and get some sleep now, okay?"

But LittleTummy didn't stop grumbling and it got louder and louder and LOUDER! until it woke My Typist up.

"WHAT is that sound?" I heard her say. "Georgia! Is that YOU? Is that YOUR TUMMY?" She came over, put her hand on my tummy, gave it a gentle rub and finally, FINALLY!...she felt bad and mean and selfish and all of those awful things.

She gave me a cuddle. She brought my bed up to the room. She tucked me in and told me to hang in there till brekkie.

Then she went back to bed and left me with my grumbling tum. I was very sad. But what could I do, Dear Diary? It's not like I had the key to the house and could just let myself out and run away like Jennie. So I did what she told me, and bravely hung in there.

When I woke up this morning, I couldn't wait to eat, but I had to go for my walk first. When I got home, I found My Nutritionist had gotten out of bed! and made my breakfast!

In case you're wondering, Mr Thumper's brekkie is the one on the left. Mine is the yummy one on the right.

It looked pretty bad. But I was so hungry, I gobbled down the 3 whole big generous gooey tablespoons she gave me. She tells me I'm going to have 5 little meals today. But Dear Diary, I don't know if she's lying because she's back at the computer again.

If you ask me, Murphy's decided he likes our little house and has moved in. In the last 2 weeks, I've been bitten, had surgery, haven't been allowed to play with my friends, had a bad tummy, been starved to the brink of death. 

My scar. Isn't it neat? Dr Dog isn't just handsome, he's Very Good.
And now, my toes have started to itch too. And did I mention, my bum g.l.a.n.ds are killing me? I was so stressed, I started to leak stuff yesterday on My Poor Cushion. Lucky there was a towel on him [that immediately got washed by My Typist a.k.a. My Washerwoman].

My Cushion was very brave. He put on some gloves, brought out a tube of whatever and gave me a squeeze,  just like Dr Dog had taught him. I won't go into the gory details here because...well, just because.

But anyone having a morning coffee and a roll while reading this had BETTER NOT LOOK AT THE NEXT 2 PICTURES.

I'll just give you some space here to quickly close your eyes and scroll down.





Dum-de-dum...

...de-dum-de-dum...

 

Okay, it's safe now!

If you DID look at those pictures, I hope you're okay. If it's any comfort, I didn't feel great about what was happening either.

This morning, maybe because she was feeling quilty about being A Bad Mom, or maybe because she was scared my out-at-work human would use his Very Loud Voice when he comes back from work, My Typist thought it best to do something about the mess that is now our little house.

She did the laundry, that is to say, the washing machine did the laundry and she hung them out.

She did the dishes, that is to say, the dishwasher did the dishes and she put them away.

She gave Mr Thumper's scabby back a medicated wash.

And she FINALLY realised my toes needed one too.

Does anyone else think I've aged in the last 2 weeks?

Despite being so busy, My Typist also found time to beautify herself with these bracelets.

She says they're supposed to chase the mosquitoes away. I don't know why she she's worried about  getting bitten by mosquitoes. Everyone knows they only bite smart humans.

And that, Dear Diary, is pretty much what I have to tell you today. I don't think my humans stay-at-home human loves me anymore.

I wonder if anyone out there would like A Lovely PigDog, housetrained, Almost A Lady, who doesn't eat too much [not even yummy littledogs], with freshly washed toes, and who is only ever so slightly opinionated.

*****

Eat This Yummy Pap, Georgia. It's Good For You!

Rice

Oatmeal [the cheap Homebrand kind] cooked in homemade chicken stock

Lentils, chickpea and pumpkin mash

Blended silverbeet and beans

Chopped up poached chicken breast [she says there's a lot in my bowl, I think she's lying]

Bloodwood honey [tastes better than it sounds]

1 tsp probiotic or slippery elm [so yum]

"YOU eat it, you typist you!"