Late-Night Adventure

I take Catherine out at around 11:30, for the last time at the night. I take her on longer walks when its cooler—we're both pretty sensitive to heat. Usually, when she needs to go, even if she needs to poop, she does it in our mulch-filled atrium. We do her major exercise, collaborative with me, indoors.

Last night, she went into the mulch, she went over to Poopsville—what I call the corner she prefers—and then walked out, facing towards our front gate. 

This meant she wanted to go on an adventure, as call it, at 11:45 at night, only wearing a collar, when she's supposed to be walked only with a harness—because of her multifocal osteoarthritis (that is, arthritis in every joint including in her spine).

She won't let me put her harness on at night, probably because she's tired and in more pain than earlier in the day. She gets 300mg of gabapentin and 150mg of tramadol three times a day—a lot of pain meds. She also gets a newish monoclonal antibody "biopharmaceutical" called Librela, specifically for her osteoarthritis. Librela is a miracle drug. Before Librela, she was hobbling. I don't know what quality of life she would have right now. Now, though, she walks normally, can exercise, and even rush across the street—with one of her beloved treats as inducement.

Also, I wasn't wearing a shirt, and I didn't have those treats. I often need them to get her moving back to our house. Catherine loves me, and often does what I want… but I leverage how food-motivated bulldogs are. She's on very short rations—a svelte bulldog lives longer, a big priority here.

So I went in, put on a shirt, grabbed the adventure trip "belt bag," locked the door, and we set off.

Except, Catherine then didn't want to go. She sat right at the open gate, and looked at me. I talked to her, as I usually do. I said, "Catherine. it's up to you but you need to poop." She sat. (She had "dropped anchor," as my very dog-forward friend Colleen puts it.) And no harness, so no boosting. Reaching under and lifting her, a big rescue-dog no no, with her. I said "Come." I used the beseeching tone of voice that usually gets her going. 

Finally, I had to use the high value treat—the only one one of those I had—to get her out of the gate and going. 

So we went out. We walked around in the rain-soaked grass and pooped. (Well, she pooped.)

Then, sort of as usual, she insisted on being bribed to go back in. I only had one high value treat left in the belt bag. I didn't want to use it. so I grabbed three pieces of kibble, and said "This is the usual exchange rate—let's go." She went. 

I put the poop bag on the poop disposal depot—four bags, it'd been a busy day; I kept not having time to dump them. And we went inside.

Uneventful, huh? 

This dog, I tell you.

(Written late last night while I was sitting and petting her, and edited and posted tonight—all on my phone! Sketch of Catherine by talented law librarian comrade and friend Mary Whisner.)