It's a bleak and snowy day here in Southeast Michigan. Trudy still hasn't had her x rays, but even after several days off the bute, she seems a little more comfortable than she was. She's still not her flexible self, but much better. Dr. Cawley had said she could go outside if she was better off the bute, but I decided not to do that since x rays are tomorrow. I just want to find out how bad it is before I do anything.
But I did take her out for a walk in the snow. Everything is grey, with light flakes falling gently. Trudy was so happy and grateful! She arched her neck and purred softly, looking eagerly around and smelling the air.
I turned Clifford loose and he followed us down the driveway, shadowed closely by Ms. Rip. He curled his tail up over his back, snorted and took off, cavorting and bucking his way through the knee-high drifts. I wished I had my camera!
We paused and I said, "Clifford!" But he was too wrapped up in his antics to notice. I took my glove off and held it up. "Do you want to fetch my glove?"
That was all he needed to hear. He turned and came trotting over and assumed the position: Head down, ears forward, waiting for the pitch! I threw the glove and he leaped in the air, ran to it and picked it up. He came trotting back with that glove flapping in his mouth, rolling his eyes and swinging his head so the fingers waved at me.
No matter what happens, the Morgans always somehow manage to make my day. What a couple of wonderful friends.
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