My Name Is Mickey…And I’m Diabetic

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.