My old dog Sweetie has a new lease (or should I say 'leash' ?) on life.  Now on thyroxin, insulin shots and arthritis medication for her aging hips, she's eager to walk again.  Oh, and her tail is starting to grow a little hair. 

 

 

That's right.  Her tail, once so bushy, was nearly bald.  Her belly was getting bald too.  I had thought she was getting bald from old age.  After all, she is 12 years old (84 in human years!)  But the vet told me that losing hair on the tail is a classic symptom of thyroid defiency. 

 

 

Though Sweetie and I are walking again, we don't walk nearly as far as we used to.  When we were both younger, we often walked for miles.  Now, we walk about two miles at most.

 

 

I let Sweetie be the boss.  She tells me when she's tired and wants to turn around.  How does she do that?

 

 

 Well, she starts by getting really pokey.  And if pokey doesn't  work, she stops dead in her tracks, sticks her neck out and, with a stubborn look on her face, refuses to budge until I turn around.

 

 

Here's a little poem I wrote last week about we two old friends, Sweetie and I, taking an evening stroll.  We like to walk at night.  I especially love to walk and gaze up at the stars in the clear winter sky.

 

 

 My father was an amateur astronomer and I spent many an hour out in the yard with him and his telescope.  Every time I see Orion, I think of Daddy.  And in the early winter evenings, Orion is high in the sky and spectacularly beautiful:  the broad shouldered hunter, wearing a bright belt and sword, and accompanied by his faithful dog, Canis Major.  The dog's eye is Sirius, nick named the 'dog star.'  

 

 

 

Traipsing Through the Universe

 

 

The old girl whines and I reply

"Okay, let's get your leash"

And we two friends slip out again

To prowl nocturnal streets

 

We walk in blissful silence

'Neath throngs of shining stars

That lend their luster to the lawns

And sleeping beasts of cars

 

We feast our eyes on starry gleam

Immortal shafts of light

That play among the galaxies

In boundless feats of flight

 

 

And I lose track of time...

 

 

 

She slows her pace as if to say

It's time to turn around

So we retrace the way we came

Through drowsy parts of town

 

Two tiny specks of dust, that's us

 Together homeward bound

Traipsing through the universe

Our steps the only sound

 

 

Happy Trails and Good Traipsing to you this week,

 

 

Martha Maria