The Chronicles of Zippy
Last night, my folks left a basket of clean laundry on the floor. After everyone was asleep, I climbed in and started digging. I threw clothes all over the floor. I wasn’t trying to make a nest or make myself comfortable. I was trying to make a mess. I succeeded beautifully.
This morning, my folks saw the pile of clothes on the floor, a nearly-empty basket, and a contented Corgi snoozing nearby. I have to give it to them, it didn’t take them long to figure it out. They know me too well.
The weather has gone a little goofy. Just a few days ago it was still very much wintery and chilly. Now, it is very warm with record-breaking temperatures. This is playing havoc with our shedding schedule.
We haven’t had any time to acclimate to the warm weather, so we still have much of our winter coats. But it’s like an emergency evacuation order has been posted, and fur has started coming out all of a sudden, in huge random clumps. We are lumpy and lopsided. Daisy looks like she has a spiky collar, but it's just hunks of fur coming out. My pants have thick wings of it.
Actually, I hope we finish shedding soon. When we went for a walk at the big park yesterday, we were so hot our tongues were dragging on the ground. I know we are pretty close to the ground to begin with, but still.
Today is my birthday. We have been celebrating for a couple of days now.
We have gone to some of my favorite parks to chase ducks, squirrels and other creatures.
But my favorite part of any birthday is the treats! I had a very yummy people-style dinner and cheesecake for dessert. (Not a whole one, of course. But that would have been great.)
I enjoyed the cheesecake so much that I walked out of the singing of the Happy Birthday Song to see if any crumbs were still on the plate we left outside. That is not nearly as rude as it sounds. You have never heard my folks sing. They are quite used to losing their audience.
I made quite a spectacle of myself at the vet office yesterday while getting my annual heartworm check. A heartworm check involves a blood test, and that involves taking blood out of my body! Did you know that? It’s true!
Even worse, taking blood means touching my legs! The thought of someone holding one of my legs is more than I can stand. So I tried to make it perfectly clear that this should not happen.
I squirmed and wiggled and and contorted my body into positions that, I believe, are unprecedented in the history of the Pembroke Welsh Corgi. I also cried like a little girl.
My folks, who seem to enjoy making their lives as difficult as possible, had brought Daisy along for the ride—Do you have two dogs who have issues with visits to the vet? Sure! Bring them both!—and I also did a good job of traumatizing her with my yelping for a while.
Finally, all that whipping myself about wore me down and I consented to the tiny little pinprick.
By the time we got to the rabies vaccine, I had given up completely.
At long last, we left, exhausted. We have to go back today, because my addled folks mistakenly picked up the rabies certificate for a beagle named Hootch.