I haven't felt like talking for a while. My leg bothers me. The medicine helps some, but I can't do everything I want to do and that makes me mopey.
Mom got me a ramp and I don't like it much. She meant well. She thought it would help me get on the bed at night. Mom likes me to sleep at the foot of the bed, and I like it, too. It's my spot at night. I can be close and watch over her and see out the window at the same time.
Anyway, I do not like the ramp. Mom is not happy with me that I won't use it. Last night, Mom and Dad ganged up on me and I had no choice but to walk up the ramp.
The funny thing is, I go up the ramp Cousin Dave built onto the front porch without any problems. I use this new ramp to get into my pickup so I can go for a ride.
I guess the thing is, I like it when Mom helps me onto the bed. It makes me remember when I was a little guy and she carried me. I'm a lot bigger now and I weigh eighty-three pounds. Mom can barely give me a boost onto the bed.
Even after I have surgery, I won't be able to jump for a long time. I need to dog-up and get over myself and use the ramp.