Have you ever had something important to say to your pawrents and you've simply not been able to get them to understand? I thought so. It's one of the few frustrations in a dog, hooman relationship.
I had an uncomfortable tummy for maybe 3 days or so. I just didn't feel well. I tried to tell my Mom but each time I'd start to tell her my problem, I got something like, "You want me to throw your ball?, or you're ready to go out now? What I wanted Mom to do was to help make my tummy better.
The longer it took her to understand what I was saying the worse I felt. Finally I just wanted Mom to sit down and hold me. (I always want my Mom to hold me when I feel bad). I know I'm a fierce, brave hunting doggy, but when I'm sick, I'm Mom's little baby girl.
When I started telling Mom I wanted to be held, she got pretty concerned. (I'm an independent kind of girl.) After the I want you to hold me, I then progress to the nopes no dinnies thank-you though. This really gets Mom's attention.
I don't know about your pawrents, but mine are Poo Watching Professionals. Yups Mom and Dad can give my poo a 2 second glance,and rate it on a scale of 1-10. The consistency of the poo plays a big factor in the rating scale. Anything less than perfect depending on my attitude,and appetite can warrant an immediate trip to my dogtors.
One being perfect= a "Gold Star Poo" that brings with it a sigh of relief.
Anything below the "Gold Star Poo" gets a furrowed brow and much staring, discussion between the pawrents and questions of, Molly, "Do you feel ok?" Now you can imagine how frustrating this can be, as I have spent days at this point trying to tell the folks my tummy feels bad.
Well on day 3 the poo's hit a #2 on the "Poo Scale." Mom called my dogtor and they had a chat. I felt pretty bad and just couldn't throw myself into my chase the squeaky ball game. Mom took note of my every move.
The next day my poo's weren't a lot better so you guessed it pups. I get loaded up into the truck and off to the dogtors I go. When I feel bad I really don't want to be poked and prodded and this day was no different. My dogtor goes off to the magical room where she looks under her microscope and all her machines whirl and dance.
After a while she steps into back into our room and tells Mom, Well Molly's pretty sick. Just to make sure Mom understands I give her my I told you so, but you didn't listen look.
Now to add insult to injury it's gotten pretty warm here. All my dogtor had to say was, "Molly's pretty sick", and that translates to No Outside Time except to take care of personal business. No chasing squirrely's, no hunting for squirrely's not even one. ~sigh~
At least I have my side kick Tabby cat, but at times I have problems trying to talk Cat.
I think I'll just take a nap in the sunshine and then watch Animal Planet .
Molly and my Mom