Pocket's New Year Resolutions

The New Year arrived quietly at my house, as it always does.  My parents are far beyond the days of celebrating the New Year. We lie in the big bed together, and when the clock strikes twelve, my parents discuss what fresh hell 2019 will present.  My parents do know; whatever it may be, they will handle it together.

My parents have this same dread every year, and for the most part, it is unfounded.  Whether that will be the case this year, I do not know, but I am vowing to not contribute to any tension that may be waiting.

I resolve in 2019 to make sure I pee on the pad. Being in the same room as the pad, or a neighboring room is no longer good enough.  I must have all four paws on the pad, not just the front two leaving the back end off as my pee splashes on the floor, puddles under the pad and spreads like a stubborn rash.  I also vow to fully empty my bladder when I go outside and not cut short my urination time so I can get back inside, get my treat, then trot over to the pads for a squirt.

When I miss the pads, by forty feet or so, its usually because I am running around the house chasing my ball. I am very good at tracking it, but I need to improve in other aspects of this activity.  Sometimes, opening my mouth and grasping the ball is too much work for my nearly toothless face. I look at the ball, then bark for my human to retrieve, and throw it, so I can do what I do best, tracking.

I also vow not only to pick up my ball but to carry it back to my Papa, who does the majority of ball throwing. Until now I became so excited while carrying the ball I barked with joy, dropped it, then yipped at Papa to crawl over and throw it again. 

 Playing ball with me is very much like being a receiver for the Jets There is a lot of frustration, bending over and picking the ball up. But, no more. You have my bark.

Some mornings I am not hungry.  Occasionally this is followed by bag poops. I always eat by evening.  But, when I don’t eat, it makes my parents worry that the bad poops are coming, or, worse that I won’t eat at night, or the next day. I have to remember I am going to be 12 this year and any missed meal, limp, or yip will send my family into a fury of worry.

I told my resolutions to River and suggested she make a similar list, perhaps including not being so bitchy and snappish all the time.  River succinctly told me that these behaviors only bothered me, which, to an extent is true, but she still causes unrest, and no one wants unrest.


I am hoping for a low key year for myself, my parents, my friends, and their parents, although given what the strange white disc in the kitchen that, in a severe monotone, reads the headlines each morning, no matter how we dogs try, there will be more unrest in 2019 than we can handle.