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The irony of life is when you are the most down, life still moves on.

The last week has been a bad one, every event which usually would involve all three dogs, is now being done, sans Bernie.

I think Bernie would have wanted it no other way.

Bill decided that he was going to try an unauthorized walk around the neighborhood.

There is a portion of the fence that Bill has bent forward enough that he can squeeze under. No matter how I try to cover the hole or fix it, he finds a way to get under it.

So, I guess he felt he could do it again.

I turned my back to look inside and he was off. He dove under the fence.

And got stuck.

I heard the high-pitched barking that Roswell has when he gets excited and low and behold: half a Bill under the fence.

He has on his side, legs flailing as he tries to push himself with his back legs and pull himself with his front legs.

Roswell was pouncing on Bill’s tail, I was trying to grab Bill and pull him back in.

I guess all of those cookies over the winter did not help.

After pulling him back into the fenced area, Bill walks off indignantly.

I am sure he will try again.

I am a dog parent. I have never had kids.

But my readers who are parents to dogs or kids will understand this:

Ever notice how a problem child will act like an angel in public?

That is Roswell. He is high strung; he is hard to pin down. He acts like a maniac.

He is a saint at the Vet’s office.

We went Friday. It was his annual checkup. We also wanted to see if whatever happened to Bernie was contagious in any way.

I expected to have to hog tie him to get on his harness.

He sat and waited as I put it on.

I expected to need a crowbar to get him out at the vet.

He jumped out and we went to the potty park next to Dr. Dunn’s office.

He went in when we were called and except for needing to be put on the scale, was a perfect gentleman.

Roswell followed into the waiting room, the whole time I was worried when the real Roswell would show up.

He let her take him to the back for a test where they swabbed his butt, and then gave him his shots.

Not a peep out of him.

Roswell came back chipper and playful. He was quiet and curious the whole visit when Dr. Dunn told me what to do to control fleas and to see about Roswell’s upcoming visit to get neutered.

I am sure that visit will not be fun.

 

Michael Cole is a syndicated columnist that when he is not writing, he is plotting global domination. You can follow him at www.storyoveracup.com