Mad Dog?

Our sweet lab/chow, Meshach (a girl with a boy's name) has been a brick the many years she's lived with us.  She never asks anything of us. In recent years she's had a couple of panic attacks (and tore up the kitchen once when the smoke detector when off and we weren't at home), but other than that, steady she goes. She loves to go to "sleep away" camp when we go out of town, and gets an occasional brushing and bisquits, but that's about it. She's got a dog's life for sure. For Shach, the sun rises and sets on Spouse, but if she needs mothering, she sure knows to come to me.

It's interesting how the family dog reaches those senior years after the kids leave home just as our aches and pains are starting.  We can sort of commiserate together. Shach is pretty healthy except for some dimming vision and hearing, and oh!––how I ache for her when I see her arthritic limbs lower and raise her body.

Recently Spouse bought her a big bone. I can't remember the last time she had one.  She went mental with it. For hours she carried it around the house just beside herself. I think she must have been looking for a place to bury it. 

The next morning she would not go outside without it. Since then we have enjoyed watching her bury it (quite deeply), dig it up, carry it around for a bit, and bury it again . We think she should just keep it in her little dog house, but no, bury it she must. At least three or four times a  day. She tosses the dirt over it with her nose. (Oooo--her nose is all muddy!)  What fun to watch. She actually can't be too senile if she remembers to search for the bone. 

Photo: Shach after her "summer cut." (Bows were removed after photo.)