It has been three weeks since I impressed everyone at the vet’s office. I don’t think they have recovered from seeing me.
My parents were hoping that my jumper would have returned by now. The vet said I had a pinched nerve in my back, and she gave me medication but I ate all the yummy pills, and I am still not jumping.
(OK, listen: Don’t tell my parents but I have done some jumping. When they go out Mommy puts her nightshirt on her recliner. She lays it out nice and flat. When they are gone, I jump in the recliner and roll around on the nightshirt bunching it into a ball. Don’t tell my parents. I don't think they have noticed.)
I guess I am going to have to rely on my parents to continue to pick me up. When they have the bottom of the recliner up, I sit on the floor and look up at them with very sad eyes that scream: “Pick me up, I am so small and helpless.” Then they lift me and put me in the chair.
(When they aren’t home I fly onto that recliner. I love having the whole thing to myself.)
I used to be able to jump up by the window and get my whole body as high as the bottom of the window. If the sill was bigger, I could land on it. Those days are gone.
(When my Pocket made her emergency trip to the window I jumped on the kitchen table to wait for them to come home. As soon as their car appeared in the driveway, I jumped down. That was a close one. Thank God it is impossible to see inside a lit room from outside at night.)
I used to jump on the couch with my treat bone in my mouth. Then I would drop it and let the treats scatter. But I can’t do that any longer because of my bad back.
(On Sunday I jumped up on the couch with my treat bone, but my parents were engrossed with flying dragons and did not see a flying Griffon.)
I am taking some glucosamine in the morning. They are my special treats, and they are yummy. But they aren’t working.
(Some mornings my mom takes my favorite chew toy and tossed it on the recliner and run after it and jump on the chair to get it but I jump down with lightning speed. I don’t think they saw it.)
I hope my parents understand that I may never be able to jump again. Poor me I am dependent on their kindness to get on the furniture.
(Because I really like being picked up).