Little does Lucy know it but she’s in for a spa day this coming week.

She has a vet appointment on the 24th so we think a bath is in order. No sense in taking a stinky girl in for her check up when she can go in smelling pretty.

She doesn’t like baths. So shh, everyone. No one tell her.

Tell who what?

Gavin was NOT happy to visit his friends at ABE Veterinary Clinic.

They consider themselves his friends but he’s not so sure about that. I had a heck of time just getting him into the clinic this time. In the exam room, even a tennis ball could not make him happy. He just wanted to get out of there and go home.

Dr. Ashley and her assistant had to wrestle him to check his ears and then put medicine in them. For a fourteen year old dog he’s hell awful strong.

Medications and his exam bill later, we were over three hundred dollars in the hole. However, his ears look better. His skin is improved (thank you Apoquel) his allergies finally seem to be under control.

I struggled to get him into the van to go home and to get him out of the van when we got there.

Once home, he wanted his tennis ball.

Nut-ball dog.

The other day, I ordered fifty tennis balls for Gavin.

He’d popped his last one, and dig as he might through the toy box, he couldn’t find another one.

They arrived yesterday afternoon.

Gavin is a hoot. Any other dog would have gone for all of them.

Not Gavin. He took one out of the bag and played with that all evening until he had completely popped it in half.

Got to love this old boy!

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, or if you are one of my friends, you know that we have two dogs, Gavin and Lucy.

Gavin is now the oldest Bull Terrier we’ve ever had at the age of 14 years and 4 months.

Lately, he has decided that his favorite pastime is killing tennis balls after diner. And lately, we have indulged him completely on his obsession. He pops one a night.

We had a good amount of tennis balls in the house stemming from tennis camps and tennis balls left there, asked permission for, and collected by The Curmudgeon, and brought home over the years.

The Curmudgeon was forced into retirement on 12/12/2003 so we haven’t had any new ones brought in since then and Gavin popped another one tonight…

We are down to the last two tennis balls that Gavin will get tomorrow and the next day.

I went to Amazon hunted for and found them by bulk. I ordered 50 tennis balls they should last him 50 days. I got them for about a buck a piece.

The temptation to roll them all out on the floor for him when they get here is great, but then I’d have to pick them all up or watch The Curmudgeon kill himself walking around here.

I think we’ll stick to one a night.

I do not like the vet’s.

I do not like the vet’s here or there.

I do not like the vet’s anywhere.

I do not like them on my leash.

I do not like them can’t you see?

I do not like to go there by car.

I do not like the vet’s by far.

Please, Mommy take me home.

She came to us as a rescue who, at one time, was found running the streets. I imagine her traumas must have included fireworks and other loud noises.

She’s terrified of thunder and fireworks. One bang or boom and she’s in her crate like a shot and hides as far back in it as she can get. She has, on occasion, buried herself under her cushion.

I’ve tried to keep her  on the couch with me, but she never stays. At least she finds some form of security in her crate.

It’s great to say that most of his blood work came back with cheers of excellent from his vet. However, there were a couple of values in his liver numbers that she did not cheer about. “We’ll keep an eye on those,” she said.

For Gavin’s age, fourteen years old, he is in great shape. We’ve never had one of our bully loves make it to this age.

I’m sure he’s not going to want to get in the car next week when we have to go back to his vet’s office. Even less so when he has to go a third time. He’s never liked to go there, he’s gone to the same office since he was a little guy.

Yeah, an hour later, $650.00 lighter, and the old dog was acting like nothing happened. Guess who was chasing three tennis balls all over the living room?

Like he didn’t throw up twice the day before…which he NEVER does.

At least now he’s having his ears treated and we’ll go back next week to spend another small fortune on them. His vet is aware of how lousy his teeth look, how weird his nails grow, and that he HATES being there.

He’s had a nail trim done by two people and it took three people to clean his ears. Is it any wonder why I couldn’t keep at them with my left hand dead and The Curmudgeon out of commission?

I do love my vets and their staff, never any recriminations when we let things get a bit ahead of us.

Looking forward to watching the Westminster Dog Show. I’ve watched the show every year since they began to televise it.

The Curmudgeon and I compete on picking the winners.

I usually beat him.

Even the dogs are wishing for an indoor toilet. Twelve degrees out there with a real feel temperature of -3, oh so not fun!

Go outside? Not without my hoodie and hat, Momma.

She wanted her hoodie last night. With the temperature at 34 degrees poor spoiled Lucy did not want to go outside without her hoodie and hat. Made her go out anyway.

I hadn’t pulled them out for her yet because it has been warm, unusually warm for us in PA.

Gavin doesn’t care. We could have 4 feet of snow and he still wouldn’t care.

Lucy last year.

Momma iz not feeling berry gooder. I Lucy amz making her stay on da couch wiff me and snugglez.

She talked to Da Daddy on da phone a cuppla timez but she notz going in dere to see him when she iz sickiez.