Harry and I have both been feeling some pain lately. As a dog of a certain age, he tends to throw his back out semi-regularly, and this weekend was one of those times. (Too much tug-of-war at his insistence) But a bit of Rimadyl and some TLC, and he was dying to get to the park - whining, punching me, and even resorting to barking by the door. So in the freezing, windy cold, we walked around the park, and stopped off so he could take his spa. (And then watch him as he turns into a giant poochsicle)
I admire this pup - the dog who came from a dirty, smelly, matted, underfed, abusive hole in the ground to rise up and take charge of his own destiny - regardless of any pain he feels or holes in his heart. When I hurt from the weather, he hurts too. But he always gets up again because there is fun to be had. A lot to learn from that one, for sure.
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