The painters finally finished painting today which means it was the dog’s sixth and final day locked up inside. When we first got Boo, she was confined to our apartment except for her morning and evening walks. That lasted for almost six months before we moved into the house and she started being able to stay outside during the day. While she didn’t seem to ever mind the apartment– and used to be able to jump on the couch– she now doesn’t like staying in the house instead of her grassy backyard with a nice breeze, warm dirt and squirrels to watch. Usually she only has inside days when I know it’s going to rain or we have people working on the house, so the six days of painting were the most she’s been in the house for a long, long time.

She was fine for the first five days. But today when I got home I realized something was wrong. She wasn’t as eager to meet me at the door, and after letting her outside, I noticed some wet paw prints. Uh-oh. I followed them into our back room and was looking around for puddles, finally I saw a big one. Luckily we have hardwood floors, and I know this wasn’t her fault. We have a dog with Cushing’s Syndrome and we’ve been lucky that poor bladder control has not been an issue thus far, but it probably didn’t help her hold it when she drank her whole bowl of water today. Poor thing.

In order to let her know she wasn’t in trouble, I decided to take her for a walk (which I know I should have done the other days but I’m a terrible owner) to the Bay Trail which is maybe five short blocks from our house. As soon as we got to the trail, I noticed her limping. Bad. There’s something wrong with one of her back legs and I didn’t notice it until we got all the way to the trail. We immediately turned back instead of doing our normal walk and she was slow all the way back to the house.

I hate to say it, but the first thing that popped into my head, since she was home alone all day, was that the painter who had access to the house did something to her. Though she could have slipped and hurt herself, very likely since her muscles are compromised by the Cushing’s. Either way, the pee and the limp remind me that our Boo girl is somewhere around 13 years old now and she’s not a puppy. She’s so important to us, I want to make sure she is happy in her twilight years and so I hope she is back up and doing our Bay Trail walks soon.

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