I’d been having some “potty” accidents in the house and always seemed to be thirsty. My housemates noticed. They drove me into to see the “doggy doc” which I refer to as the “poke and prod shop”. Sure enough, blood tests revealed that I’d developed diabetes.

So now what?

So now, more poking.  That’s “ruff” but I can take it.  I’m pretty tuff.  Twice a day, after my morning and evening meal, “the tall ones” poke me in the back with a needle.  At least that’s followed by extra petting. I’m sure they’re doing what’s necessary but I sure miss those extra treats. I must say that I’m feeling a little spunkier.  I’m back to ensuring that my backyard remains a squirrel free zone and I still love swimming in the refreshing waters of White Sand Lake.

Life goes on, and if a couple of needle pokes a day is what it takes to keep me going, then who am I to bark about it.

I still don’t know why they thought it was a good idea to add that darned cat to the family.