Dog Diary — Retirement Is Surprisingly Busy

Working Title: "I Accidentally Became An Athlete"

Mission: Continue Living My Best Retirement While Convincing Everyone To Adopt A Bull Terrier.

Status: Outstanding. Tail Wagging At Record Levels.

Dearest Diary,

Yesterday began with an act of extraordinary cruelty.

The humans woke me for a vet appointment at 8:40 in the MORNING.

Diary...

Eight.

Forty.

A.M.

I would like the official record to reflect that respectable ladies of retirement age should not be expected to participate in society before at least midday.

I was bundled into the car while still emotionally asleep and taken to my monthly audience with my favourite vet.

At first I was prepared to be mildly inconvenienced.

Then...

The waiting room door opened.

And in walked...

...a tiny bull terrier.

A little white and brown fellow with a glorious Roman nose named Rocco.

Diary, I gasped. 

My humans gasped. 

Rocco's humans gasped. 

The receptionist gasped. 

A brother from another mother!

He couldn't have been more than six months old and was absolutely bursting with enthusiasm for life.

He sniffed me.

I sniffed him.

Then we both completely forgot we were at the vet.

There were tail wags.

There were play bows.

There were excited little bull terrier wiggles that only our kind truly understands.

The humans stood there smiling like proud parents watching children make their first friend at school.

Sadly, I had to go in for my appointment first.

I wished him well.

May his zoomies always be plentiful.

By the time I got home I was absolutely exhausted from all the excitement and immediately slept for most of the afternoon.

Being socially famous is incredibly tiring.

The vet, meanwhile, was wonderfully pleased with me.

He admired the enormous wound on my back leg — the one that caused everybody so much worry a little while ago.

The humans held their breath while he inspected it.

Then he smiled.

It has healed beautifully.

There is even soft little fur beginning to grow around it.

Diary...

Do you remember when everyone wondered whether that wound would ever heal?

Whether there would be enough healthy skin?

Whether my old body could manage it?

Well...

Apparently nobody told my body that it was supposed to struggle.

It simply got on with the job.

The humans looked enormously relieved.

I pretended I wasn't listening.

Today I visited the Woman's brother again.

He lives somewhere very different to our house.

There is no backyard.

Instead, there is something called a unit, complete with a balcony overlooking the world below.

Diary...

I adore that balcony.

I stand out there with the breeze in my ears, watching birds, people, cars and dogs going about their busy little lives while I survey my kingdom from above.

It is tremendously regal.

The Woman's brother gave me pats.

He gave me treats.

He told me I was beautiful.

I agreed with every word.

I do hope I shall visit again soon.

The rain, however, continues to be incredibly inconsiderate.

There has been so much of it lately that adventures have become frustratingly rare.

The humans keep promising that this is simply "winter" and that before long there will be sunshine, warm days and endless walks again.

I suppose I shall allow the weather one more chance.

Whenever the clouds part, however briefly, we seize the opportunity.

Today, after visiting the balcony kingdom, we finally managed another proper sniffer walk.

I inspected every blade of grass.

Left several important messages for the local dogs.

Read all the replies.

It was glorious.

Now that the humans know my skin problems are not caused by food, life has become considerably more interesting.

I am permitted to sample taste of all sorts of things.

Chicken.

Vegetables.

The occasional interesting morsel.

But there is one food that continues to confuse everyone.

Chips.

Diary...

Whenever the humans have hot chips (which is not nearly often enough), I become utterly convinced that I absolutely must have one.

I activate the eyes. The enormous, tragic, starving-orphan eyes.

Eventually someone sighs dramatically and hands me a chip.

I carefully take it.

Chew twice.

Then spit it onto the floor.

Every.

Single.

Time.

The humans keep asking,

"Sara... you don't like chips, why do you keep doing this?"

Because, Diary...

It isn't about eating the chip.

It's about the principle.

Ear cleaning continues.

I remain unimpressed.

The humans remain equally determined.

Every week they gently clean my ears to make sure they never return to the painful, infected mess they once were.

Sometimes I grumble.

Sometimes I sigh theatrically.

But deep down...

I think we all remember just how miserable life used to be.

These days I run.

I spin.

I zoom.

I chase.

I don't walk crooked anymore.

I don't constantly shake my head.

I don't spend every waking moment scratching.

Instead...

I spend it trying to convince people to rub my belly.

Frankly, I think it's a much better use of everyone's time.

One afternoon of "not raining" the Woman declared that the lawn had become "completely out of control."

Apparently grass continues growing whether one approves of it or not.

She wheeled out the mower and set up one of my beds outside.

Blankets were carefully arranged.

My royal throne was positioned in the sunshine.

And there I remained...

Supervising.

Warm.

Comfortable.

Occasionally opening one eye just enough to ensure acceptable mowing standards were being maintained.

Quality control is exhausting work.

Fortunately, I excel at delegation.

Something rather lovely keeps happening wherever we go.

People stop.

They smile.

They meet me.

The humans tell them I'm a rescue. Secretly they call me an "advocate". 

Then they tell them there are more than forty bull terriers still waiting for homes through NSW Bull Terrier Rescue.

People are always surprised. They always say they had no idea so many dogs were waiting.

The humans tell them about the web site. Sometimes they say they'll look into it. 

Diary...

I hope they do.

Because every bull terrier deserves this.

A warm bed.

Kind hands.

A family who kisses the top of their head until they nearly go bald.

Someone who notices when they're uncomfortable.

Someone who celebrates every tiny improvement.

Someone who loves them simply because they're them.

The humans know my journey isn't over.

My breast cancer is still there.

The little spot of skin cancer on my belly is still quietly doing its thing.

One day those illnesses will win.

But not today!

Today there were walks.

Today there were pats.

Today there were belly rubs.

Today there was sunshine between the rain.

Today there was another bull terrier who wanted to play.

And today...

my tail never stopped wagging.

That is more than I ever dreamed retirement could be.

To everyone who has donated towards my care, or supported NSW Bull Terrier Rescue in any way...

thank you.

Because six months ago I was surviving.

Today...

I'm living.

End of Entry.

Mission Status:
Healthy-ish. Hopeful. Thoroughly Spoiled. Still Rejecting Chips After Two Bites.

Sara

Queen of the Balcony Kingdom
Professional Chip Inspector
Big Sister to Every Bull Terrier I Meet
Chief Belly Rub Quality Assurance Officer 🐾