What does one do with a canine pal who’s not allowed to go for walkies or play ball? Seriously, though – I’m at a bit of a loss here. I’m used to being able to bond with Poncho over wholesome activities that also happen to be good for my health. I’m currently struggling for inspiration beyond letting him sit on my lap on the couch for hours – not a sustainable solution, given that Poncho is far from lap-sized.
It’s only for a month or so, but Poncho doesn’t understand that, so he’s being a bit of a baby about it. It all started the other day, when I had to take him for emergency vet surgery. Moorabbin, luckily, had a clinic that was open, and Poncho’s leg was successfully patched back together. Much to his vexation, though, he’s been fitted with cone to stop him from gnawing on the stitches, and he’s milking his misfortune for all it’s worth.
I just can’t say no to those mournful eyes, and that’s why I’ve ended up inviting him onto the couch – on my lap, no less – after months of training him to keep off it. It was the only thing I could think of that might make him stop looking so sad, and it’s worked. I knew I should have gone to the Brighton animal hospital instead. The vet there is a bit less of a softie and would probably have fussed over Poncho a bit less. As a result, I wouldn’t feel like such a mean fur mum.
Granted, it’s hardly my fault at all that Poncho insisted on getting into a play fight with that Great Dane on the skate ramp, but still. It’s not Poncho’s fault either – he can’t help being so excitable. Despite graduating puppy preschool with flying colours, he continues to go a bit overboard sometimes, often out of a desire to please.
Eh, whatever. Maybe I’ll let him stay on the couch.