I got together with my brothers Frank and Stanley in the park just after our sixth birthday. Predictably, I took one sniff of the boys near the parking lot and high-tailed it into the brush to chase rabbits. The boys were more interested in their ball than in me, too. I guess we’re at that awkward age, too young for senior dog food, too old to chase, tackle and wrassle like we did when we were younger.
Actually, we must be junior seniors for the amount of time the boys and I spent catching up about our medical conditions. Both of the boys have shed some pounds and been allergy-free since changing their food, but Frank was on “injured reserve” for six weeks with a bulging disc, which are two words a dachshund (or dachshund owner) ever wants to hear. At one point, Frank couldn’t move his rear legs, but he miraculously recovered without surgery. Maybe that explains why he and Stan wore these cute red sweaters even though it wasn’t all that cold out. Gotta keep that chill off Frank’s back.
To me, Frank looked plenty fast and nimble enough when we took a brisk, one-hour tour of the park that morning. Mike lost his treat bag, however, partially spoiling the day for me but making a terrific day for the lucky dog who found it. I’m not too worried about Mike getting a new treat bag by next weekend.