Like a first round draft pick who has turned into a bust, I have lost my jumper. I used to jump in chairs, on the couch, and even the high bed, then one day my jumper left me, and I am floor bound unless I am picked up (which, let’s face it, happens immediately because I am beautiful. Who can resist this face)?
On Saturday night I jumped on mommy’s recliner. When I did, I gave out a small yip. Small yips are not surprising in my house. Pocket does them constantly. But I never do them. My parents checked me over, and I seemed fine. It was close to bedtime, so I did not leap again that night.
The next morning I went out and did my business. As I was walking across the wooden living room floor, I let out another yip. I was checked over, and the coach found no reason to take me out of the game. I have not jumped since.
My parents went on the Internet to see what they should do. They did an extensive study of a dozen sites that led them all to the same conclusion: PANIC. Daddy held me, and Mommy studied my feet using the most annoying product human's own, her phone (and it’s tiny little light). I got rubbed, poked, prodded, and worst of all probed. I didn’t yip.
On my walks, I still either pull or stop in my tracks impeding the momentum of two humans and their little dog. When my food is brought from the kitchen to the dining room, I still hop on my back legs backward until the food it put down. I can climb stairs. I show no signs of pain or discomfort. But, like a reluctant person on a ledge, I won’t jump.
My parents have tried to entice me to jump by putting a treat on the couch. I begin to jump, then stop. The entire mystery has them worried and, as we dogs know, our parents are never more caring or annoying than when they are worried.
My annual trip to the vets is coming up in a couple of weeks. This is the only thing that has stopped my panicked parents from having already taken me to the vet. If I am not better the vet will feel me all over and take a guess what is wrong.
On Wednesday when Mommy got home, I jumped in the chair twice, because I was excited to see her, without a yip, but once I calmed down I didn’t want to jump again. On Thursday morning, when Mommy was putting down my breakfast, I hopped up and down on my back legs. My parents don’t think I am hurt but I still don’t want to jump.
In truth, I do like the lifts. I have been jumping for almost five years. Maybe I have just retired.