A Day at the Dog Park

Boy, I am pooped! I woke up in pain this morning and barely made it up the stairs to the bathroom. I spent most of the morning reading and taking it easy. Later my daughter-in-law suggested taking some of the dogs to the dog park in Atlanta. I’ve never been there so I decided I would go along. My dog, Raina, has never been to the dog park, so I packed her 20-ft leash so I could keep her under control. The walk from the parking lot to the pet enclosure is pretty long so I got some exercise. Raina did OK until we got inside. I kept her on the long leash, but changed back to the 6-ft leash when she got very aggressive with a Doberman. When we got our dogs alone, they were doing fine. But as soon as another dog came around, Raina went nuts. Hamburger and Penny had a great time. Penny found a Jack Russell terrier to play with. Hamburger liked one dog so well that she almost left with its owners. I had taken my camera along, but forgot to take any pictures.

We stopped for a little shopping at a Petsmart in Atlanta and then grabbed lunch at the Varsity. When we got home, it was time for pain meds and a short rest. Then we went out for flea medication, new coats for three of the dogs and some groceries. We ran short of Frontline and all of the dogs have fleas. That’s not too good when some of them sleep in our beds. Four of the dogs have vet appointments tomorrow, so we wanted to treat them for the fleas tonight.

I felt badly that I had forgotten to feed and water my finches before we left for the dog park. The poor things had no food by the time I got to them and the Society finches were completely out of water. They started screeching in unison when I walked in the door. All is quiet now.

I am such a chump. My niece called the other day and I let it go to voice mail. She changed locations and called again. My son picked up and then buzzed me on the intercom. I spoke to her reluctantly. She wanted me to prepare her tax return. I tried to convince her it was easy to do by touch-tone phone, but she has never done a tax return. I told her to send me copies of her W2s and I’ll take care of it. I should have just said no. Next year for sure, she can figure it out on her own.