Mom fighting the medical profession

My mom hurt her arm exactly 7 weeks ago (she reminded me today). She is doing well, although she hates the medical profession.

“They’ll happily spend tons of money on useless screening,” she says. “They’ll pay me to talk to a primary care physician about tests. But when I REALLY need help, what do they do? Pass the buck and deny me services.”

My mom says this is one time she misses Seattle. She loved the health care system. She’s going nuts trying to deal with the paperwork and the physical therapy people.

“What’s saving me,” she says, “is I’ve lucked into a great orthopedic surgeon AND an awesome trainer at my gym. By coincidence, they know each other. The rest – the receptionists, forms, assistants – are driving me nuts.”

I can tell. She’s swearing a lot.

Dog gets educated

I’m going to be the smartest, most educated dog in Philadelphia at the rate I’m going.

My mom is giving a historical tour on Saturday. She’s freaking out because she has to learn all the stops. “It’s like studying for an exam,” she says.

So every morning we walk the route. She stops and looks at the buildings and thinks about what she will say.

I tag along. Frankly, I don’t care about the buildings. I am looking for historical evidence of food.

The walk takes forever: we’re gone over an hour. I am exhausted and so is the mom. It’s in a good cause, though, and it takes her mind off her injured arm.

You never know what will happen on our walks …

So my mom and I are walking around the neighborhood. Someone comes up to us, holding a camera.

“Can I ask a favor?” she says.

“I can’t hold a camera,” my mom said, pointing to her new sling. Since she fractured her arm bone she has been a little frazzled.

“No,” the woman says. “We’re on a scavenger hunt. We have to get a picture with 6 people.”

“Sure,” my mom says. “Will you send us the picture?”

“Six people – and a dog! Our group gets a bonus!”

My mom told me to sit because a simple sit makes people melt. Apparently most dogs won’t drop as fast as I do.

So there’s my mom on the far right, checking her sling, and you can see my royal head leaning forward. My mom is very proud: she’s wearing gym shorts and a loose t-shirt (she’s having trouble getting into shirts these days) and she looks VERY fit. Doesn’t she?

After the photo shoot, my mom asked what was going on. “We’re on a team-building project for our company,” a male team member said.

“So is it working?” my mom asked, trying to keep the skepticism out of her voice. She was never much of a team player although our little furry family has been trying to help her.

“It’s okay,” the guy said. “I’ve never been on a scavenger hunt before.”

“I think he’d rather do some team building over a couple of beers at a local bar,” my mom said to me, as we walked off. “I feel the same way.”

Luxury dog houses: I wouldn’t mind one

My mom just read me this story from the New York Times online:
Luxury Doghouses and the Dogs That Couldn’t Care Less.

The article shows some canine residences that are truly fit for loyalty – homes that cost thousands of dollars.

Frankly, I wouldn’t mind an upgrade. Since I can’t be trusted to stay home alone, my mom always puts me in my crate when she goes out. When someone asks, “Does the dog mind?” she answers snarkily, “We didn’t take a vote.”

But if you think about it, a big dog crate like mine isn’t exactly a decorator’s dream come true. So a nice, tasteful doggie home would make sense for a home like mine.

Alas, my mom says, her first priority is to remodel her bathroom and maybe get a new washer/dryer before the old one dies. And she’s thinking seriously about a fountain for Ophelia, who likes to drink from interesting places.

It’s a tough life for a dog …

My mom paid UPS to ship this bed to Philadelphia from Seattle. She knows I like this bed (doesn’t it look all fuzzy and warm) and she figured I’d feel at home with my own furniture.

So … do I get to sleep in it? Hah. Our ditziest housemate, Creampuff the Cat, has done a total takeover. She loves this bed. It’s way too big for her but do I dare make a move to displace her? I’d get my rather long nose scratched off.

It’s tough around here when all the pets think they’re royalty.

Welcome to My Cousin Sophie

This is Sophie. She belongs to my Uncle Lance in Seattle so my mom says she’s my cousin.

I am madly jealous. Sophie looks totally spoiled. Did you see those toys? That pink bed and blue drinking bowl? I can’t even have a bed in my crate because I’d chew it up into tiny pieces. I inherited a silver dog dish from my mom’s first dog. You can bet I won’t be getting a blue one any time soon.

Sophie’s also training to be a service dog so she gets to go EVERYwhere. My mom says I’m way too stubborn to be a service dog and anyway I get tired now after a 45-minute walk. She wants Sophie to come visit Philadelphia so we can play together. I could teach Sophie a thing or two about being an urban dog and Sophie could (my mom says) teach me some manners.

“A tired dog is a good dog …”

My mom says that a lot these days. Now that I’m really a city dog, we do a lot of walking. My mom’s not thrilled with the local dog park situation and neither am I.

Fortunately I’m not a young dog and we have lots of interesting places to visit in our very own neighborhood. My mom admires historic brickwork. I must admit I find lots of interesting places to sniff on historic lawns, although I get totally distracted by squirrels, to my mom’s dismay.

Today we walked for about 45 minutes before breakfast. My mom says she’d like to join me here on the couch but she’s got work to do.

Dog tired: dog walk was long!

The building people were fixing our door and the installer made a lot of noise. So my mom announced, “Gracie, we are going on a LONG walk. It’s a gorgeous day. We should be outside! ”

She wasn’t kidding. We walked to Rittenhouse Square. She stopped by her old building so the doorman could meet me. He said I was “cute.”

Then we went to the Tuesday Farmers market, where my mom bought a few things from her favorite farm stand. Then we walked home.

“It’s about a mile and a half each way,” my mom said, “and we were gone about two hours. That’s a good walk for a dog.”

As you can see, I’m tired. So is my mom. She decided she’ll workout Wednesday and Friday this week instead of Tuesday and Thursday.

“A tired dog is a good dog,” my mom says.

“A tired mom is … a tired mom,” I would answer back. But I’m too busy with my nap.