Queasy is the Stomach that Wears the Crown

I’ve got to tell you guys I am under a lot of stress.  Like many of you I never thought Foley would go to the Bridge.  At least not until she was 17 or 18, blind, deaf, gassy and senile.  But Foley slipped away in her prime leaving me totally unprepared to succeed her.

Foley passing to the Bridge at 18 would have put me in double digits agewise.  Her passing would be like Queen Elizabeth dying in a year or two.  And I would be Prince Charles.  A little too long in the tooth to assume the throne.  I figured by then there would be a third dog living with us, a right smart whipper snapper who could assume the law practice, Tanner Brigade reigns ,and chief blogger, while I lived out my days like a dowager princess.

But no, I, unlike Foley, who always chased greatness, have spent my life trying to avoid having it thrust upon me but now I find myself thrusted.  I do have a new family member, River, but she has a scandalous past, single mother, Miss Griffon Pump of Florida, and needs to have her image reformed before she even gets a whiff of greatness.

And, truthfully River is a cause of great stress.  I went back and read Foley’s blogs about when I first entered her life, a wild, untamable beast with unlimited energy that turned me into a total pest.  But I could not be as bad as River, who likes to attack me while I am sleeping, attack me while I am sitting with Mom, steal my ball from me, and being a cause of general unrest.

Plus there is Mommy who still gets hit with rogue waves of grief from Foley’s passing.  I hate to see her cry.  I try to comfort her and lick her tears but when a rogue wave hits you there is nothing to do but ride it out and that takes time.

Then there is Foley who keeps popping into my dreams, or maybe my nightmares.  Why aren’t I doing more blogs?  Why don’t we have any new law clients?  Are we meeting the needs of the Brigade members?  Why aren’t you being more comforting to Mommy?  Why, why, why?  Some nights I try to stay awake all night so I can get some rest.

But all these stresses seem to hit me in the tummy.  I think I may be developing a little doggy ulcer.  At least once a week I wake Daddy up and go outside and have the most vicious little doggy poo.  It is the kind you need to clean up with a straw.  Then I don’t eat breakfast.

By midday my tummy is better and I eat my breakfast, and then eat my supper and produce a perfect Pocket poo, and continue to do so until something else or someone else (River) causes me stomach unrest and I am waking Daddy up again.

I have done all the things I am supposed to, eating the chicken, the rice, the pumpkin.  But when my tummy gets rumbly from tension nothing helps but some calm time.

When I have runny poos it always makes Mommy and Daddy worry about me which makes me worry.  It’s kind of a vicious circle of poo.  And I lose all sense of privacy.  Both my parents watch my poo come out to see if it is solid.  Mommy looks at it like one of the royal family looking up Princess Kate’s whowho to make sure that the Royal Baby is actually coming out and Daddy watches like a crab fisherman pulling a pot on board on Deadliest Catch.

So I am trying to do exercises to keep calm, keep my thundershirt handy, try to stock up on pheromones, and hope in time I will adjust to my position and our pain at Foley’s passing will ease.

I am sure I will get there because I have such great help from my friends.