Old Man Jones

I found the most wonderful woman to come take care of the dogs when I travel (thank you for the recommendation, Jen) and during these last two trips she sent me frequent updates about the walks they were taking, the way Coco could play fetch until all her limbs fell off and then whimper because she’d have to stop. Probably the best part is that she doesn’t mind changing Chuck’s diaper and running the laundry all day long. He needs that extra care so desperately now, and I found someone to give that to him. Thank you, Rachel.

I couldn’t possibly board them now, not with Chuck in this condition. And the last time I boarded them in 2010 Coco caught giardia and a bladder infection. She got so dehydrated so quickly that the vet said she was within hours of death. Not going to go that route again, nope.

He’s still pretty low key all day, although he will amble up the stairs from the basement and come walking in with his cane when he knows I’m making a meal. I’ll turn to him and say out loud, “Oh, look who is gracing us with his presence. It’s Old Man Jones. Still predictable.” Because he understands English.

Some people I will not name who are not as fond of animals as I am have asked why I’m putting up with this, why I haven’t put him down already. How could I stand the stench of dog urine inside my house? It’s useless to try to explain why to anyone who would dare ask that question, so my answer is, “Chuck will let me know.”