We Survived 2020

We’re settling into a new routine with the canine aspect of the family. They’re all shifting focus, growing and learning that things can operate in a different way than when Dusty was here running the show. We miss him terribly but I’ve stopped crying daily; I’m down to about 4 times a week now. Zoe is still having tummy issues and we’re very worried about her. She’s on a lot of medicines and they seem to control it most of the time but we have no reason for her being this way with her digestion. She’ll turn 8 years old on January 20th; I hope we get to keep her for a long, long time. Mimi will be 17 on January 30, so what does that tell you? We’re on borrowed time already. We’re trying to spend some quality time with her while we can. She has almost no hearing left; her eyesight is failing and now she’s beginning to exhibit some dementia (self diagnosed) symptoms. She’s still eating but in weird ways. She gets a bite then runs off. Then she comes back for another bite, however, that may be after she goes for a walk in the backyard or walked around the living room. The other dogs try to eat her food when she leaves her bowl which causes us stress because we have to shoo them away and protect her food. She is still eating and maintaining her weight but we’ve started feeding her bigger amounts per meal. Time will tell, I suppose.

Khandi has found out that since the little Dusty Tyrant is not ruling Mom’s lap, she can get up there and cuddle in the blanket. ZsaZsa is always under the blanket and Zoe is usually on top of it but there’s room for more now. ZsaZsa has stopped looking before she gets in my lap. Dusty used to nip her nose if she got too big for her britches. He always thought I belonged exclusively to him and he could make the laws about occupancy of my lap. I corrected him about it but some things were not learned perfectly. He was a sweet little tyrant; I miss him terribly. Gypsy, who left our laps years ago (she’s very jealous and conceited; she doesn’t walk, she struts with head held aloft LOL) has begun to allot some time to our laps. It does no good to call HER; she comes when SHE wants to and not before. She has always been different, even as a puppy. She was born in the middle of our bed, the runt of three. Her mom, Lita (Lolita), was a cinnamon-colored deer-head Chihuahua who had been abandoned. She was beautiful, looked like velvet and acted like she owned everything and everyone. Her baby daughter is a different color (she is black/white like her daddy) but the same disposition. But we love on her every time she lets us and that has become every day now. Who knew?

So that is our canine pack now: 5 opinionated, spoiled, aging girls (3 Chihuahuas, 1 chiweenie and a schnoodle (Schnauzer and poodle designer dog), all rescued, all precious, all with their own personalities, foibles and idiosyncrasies…just like us.

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