There's Just Somethin' Women Like About a Pick-up Man.

 (RIP Joe Diffie, 2020, due to COVID-19)

Well, MacShane and I had another walk the other day. He got a little fired up about the squirrels who are twitterpated and running around tail-flipping at each other all over our block. Nothing I couldn't handle, and we crossed the street beautifully just before a pick up truck paused at the same intersection. 

"Oh, it's just a pick up. We'll be fine," I thought. 

It was diesel.

Shows what I get for thinking. 

But really, in spite of all the hiccups I run into with MacShane, things have gone well. I had an online training consult with someone who works from a slightly different style than mine, and he was very helpful at getting me to slow down and give MacShane more time with fewer expectations. 

Which got me thinking about MacGyver. 

MacGyver gets very little time outside of the house and yard. He's just TOO fired up by everything.

But after that Zoom session, I thought I'd risk something, and after MacShane got in from one of his "Get the Jitters Out" walks before work, I shuffled dogs (some days it's like a Dog Bite Three Card Monty in our house) and got the Harness Lead I use at the shelter on his chonky butt. Using the same things I had to be reminded of for MacShane, MacGyver manages the same route every day, usually at least as well as MacShane, often more since he cares less about the squirrels and has no real issues with vehicles. He does, if the opportunity presents itself, attempt to eat cat poop. 

Since it's not attempting to eat actual cats, I'll live with it for now.

And what about McKie? Well, we're working on it. Sometimes The Guy will fling a lead on him and take him with, but often he doesn't. The old dog is on some new meds, but when it's cold out or if he's been rowdy with MacGyver in the yard, we don't push it. There's more sugar on that big black muzzle than he had just a year ago, and it's a fine line to walk between 'enough' and 'too much' some days. MacGyver certainly doesn't have the kind of self-control it takes to stop before he gets lame in his back end (both legs, one the knee, one the hip). It's tough on the old pup to realize he's not the lizard chasing champion of the desert like he used to be.

Hard on the Guy to admit it, too. We're all just doing the best we can. 

I don't know how I'm going to put the Guy back together when McKie goes to hang out at the Rainbow Bridge. A significant part of his life will be gone, and he's already had too many sudden, traumatic, or hard losses, some that no child should have to handle. We'll deal with it together, no questions about that, but... how? Our every waking moment, in one way or another, involves these dogs, the leopard gecko in the living room window, and my cat up in her princess tower. And watching that big brindle weenie hobble around during this last cold snap has made me realize how short the time we have might really be. So when he says "No, I just want to nap," I don't push it. And if he only hikes his leg and pees off the deck instead of going down into the grass, I don't worry about it too much either. At least he's still going outside to do his business.

But when he can't... 

Harder on me mentally, I think, than wondering how I'd pry 70 or 80 pounds of dog off a neighbor is how I'd hike that same weight up and down a flight of stairs, or into a car, with a bum knee, a bad back, and a bad temper. 

Sometimes I really do see the logic behind some peoples' dedication to toy poodles, Beagles, or mini Schnauzers. (Well, maybe not those last ones, unless they don't get a talker.) Even near my death bed I should still be able to pick up an Italian Greyhound.

But probably not even the back end of an Akita, or a pit bull. So, I guess I've gotta go walk my dogs, and we'll keep taking care of each other as much as we can, including remembering that if a truck has rear dualies and a smoke stack, it's probably also diesel.