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|Neither rain, nor hail, nor life threatening breathing crisis will deter this good boy from his appointed rounds. He pins his ears back like that when he’s really, really happy.|
You know, down at the vet’s office, they’re all talking about him. Oh, yes, Deacon D. Dawg is the talk of the town: the “Miracle Dog of” our little burg. Even the employees who weren’t working that dreadful day all know the story.
Here at our house, the old man is still on the job. On weekends, anyway. He takes weekdays off. No paper to deliver then. And no sense pushing one’s recovery, either.
The steroids are starting to eek out of his system. He’s not drinking water quite so frantically, nor acting quite so restless. He’s back to sleeping through the night again, Were it not for the fact that he’s so easily winded, I’d say he’s almost back to his old self, the way he was before the life-threatening crisis that almost brought on a lethal injection: Deakie’s near death experience, whether he knew it or not.
To Deakie’s way of thinking, the “win” in all of this for him has been that now he’s bullied his way into sleeping in our bedroom, the spot he’s been angling to win for months.
The last post about him earned me a “Post of the Week” for “A Good Read” from Hilary at the Smitten Image. I’d like to thank Hilary, on behalf of “The Miracle Dog of ___”. He and I are both grateful there was a happy ending to that tale. Tail thumps and wags all around!