This day has not started off well. Saturdays are always challenging, Maverick doesn’t quite grasp days of the week and can’t understand why he isn’t going off to play with his buddies today. To express his displeasure at my apparent lack of memory, he will pant, pace, whine, and generally be a pita until I take him to the park to do his business. He has the opportunity to be outside and bark at stuff, and while he’s there, he could manage to poop, but he does not choose to do so. He will poop at home only if it’s an absolute emergency. Otherwise, it’s the park, or daycare.

I have tried to convice our daycare to open on weekends, but she is deaf to my pleas.

My leg is seriously in need of a good talking to, come to Jesus meeting, or amputation. (that last is a joke, I can barely walk now, imagine me with one leg!) Maverick does not care. Honey Badgers don’t give a fuck, and he is most definitely a Honey Badger.

So after being whined at for an hour – because I refuse to budge till I’ve had at least one coffee – I gave in and we went to the park. It might have been okay. It wasn’t that bad until the girl with the leash around her waist and the barking dog came running towards us, Maverick reacted, she made no effort to avoid us, I pulled Maverick off the path, and there went my leg. I held onto a tree and cried. She didn’t even look back. (I don’t get the whole idea of the leash around the waist, yes, it takes the pull off your arms if the dog pulls, but it puts it squarely on the middle of your spine) We managed, slowly, to go far enough for Maverick to decide to poop and then back to the car.

We will not be going to the park tomorrow.

My day started with Maverick jumping on the bed and rolling around. Came downstairs to find Bear had Andy Griffith on TV. No, Dear, they are not gonna pay the dude with the worst house in town a million dollars, it was Confederate bonds the first time you saw that episode 50 years ago and it still is. I sincerely beiieve that one had to pass a “screechy voice” test to be on that show.

So now I’m thinking I’ll just get a shower, do my new series of exercises that were prescribed by my physical therapist – who tells me my muscles are too weak to support my spine and we must work on strenghtening them – and then perhaps I’ll feel like vacuuming. Or maybe it will be late enough to start drinking.

Would anyone like a Golden Retriever for the weekend? (Just kidding, I love the little shit)