I worked on finding a clever title for this post, but there really isn’t one.
I would say I am in the middle of moving, but that’s kind of like saying you are in the middle of falling from an airplane. You just REALLY hope that parachute opens because you really don’t have any other options.
For better or worse, in a couple of weeks I hope to have an opened parachute of a new home in Salem.
Until then, the animals and I are living in a house with random piles, bare walls, and no couch. I’ve done my best to keep all the cat trees, dog beds, and people beds comfortable for the fur children. So that doesn’t explain this…
Does this make sense to, well, anyone? I’d even take a cat opinion.
Finn is behaving more calmly, but also more worryingly. He has a large ulcer on his eye that I don’t know how he got.
Weekly vet visits have commenced. In the process we decided to get his blood work done for checkup purposes. Results came in today… for a 14-year-old dog he’s doing great! Still, he is 14 and we are increasing his pain medication.
While I don’t mind calling him old, I get a little upset when we go into the vet and they call him “old gentleman” or “old man”. He’s MY dog. Only I can call him old.
But they say this too: He seems like a happy boy.