Now that I'm on the mend, I'm returning to my old life.
Much is the same:
-Gorgeous sunsets
-My unchanged need to launch myself vertically should my owner ignore me while socializing.
Yet, in the food and fun department, there's an unpleasant new rigor.
I'm receiving tiny, boring meals multiple times a day, in deference to my delicate digestive tract. Further, the snacking situation is terrible. They've outlawed all treats, on doctor's orders.
Worst of all, my rawhides have been hidden from me. My family used to be great at noticing when I wanted to play Fetch The Rawhide, or Chew the Rawhide, and at helping me to find my rawhide when I misplaced it. Now they're pretending they don't notice what I'm trying to communicate.
How could they be so obtuse now when they've been so empathic in the past?
They throw my mallard and I run after it dutifully, but it's just not the same. Mallard ≠ Rawhide.
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