Good Dog

This is my dog. His name is Sam. He weighs in at a fluffy 108 lbs. Hims is a good doggy. At thirteen, he's not as energetic as he once was. Truth be told, there was a time when he could chase down and catch (kill) a barn rat. Yes, he was that fast.

These days he's not so fast. Mostly, he just snores. Since moving to the big city Sam has been enjoying all the comforts of home. Including being allowed in the house. Hims wuvs being in dah house!

His most favorite place to sleep is underneath my desk. I have no idea why. Every single time he tries to get up, he hits his head. Sam's usually a really smart dog...

Yesterday, Sam made some new friends, including the local Vet and her assistant. It's was the first time that Beloved had heard Sam growl at a person. It's not his schtich. He's not that kind of dog. Unless you mess with one of his kids...then looky out.

Sam was not impressed with the Vet. He was even less impressed with that bath we gave him this morning. Let me just say that he smells oh, so much better. Wrestling him to the ground to apply ear drops for his raging ear infection was not nearly as much fun as it sounds. He's a big boy that Sam Bo!

Sam has spent most of his life as a farm dog, but those days are over. The  posh life of an indoor city dog seems to agree with him. But let me just say that some of us are NOT enjoying his gastrointestinal issues that he is sharing with the other occupants of the house.

I'm proud of the fact that no matter how much Dingo, our bipolar kitty, taunts him, Sam does not react. While Dingo has the run of the house, Sam is only allowed in the 70's room (thus named for the amazingly ghastly orange shag carpet that covers the entire family room floor). And while Sam could simply cross the threshold between the family and living room. He doesn't. Why? Because we told him no and he believed us.

He's a good boy that Sam!