February 11, 2001

Yesterday was NOT a good day. I think I aged 20 years. Oh Darby had a good day, but not her caregivers.

Earlier in the day, I went out to the kitchen to put the hot pack in the microwave so we can start her PT. I turned my back for maybe 10 seconds. I went back into the living area and no Darby. So I start searching the house for my supposed to be recovering dog and where do I find her? ON THE BED IN HUBBY'S COMPUTER ROOM!!!!!

He didn't even notice her up there. He had seen a yellow out of the corner of his eye and assumed it was Murphy. I asked if he had put her up there, and he had a confused look on his face. Then he noticed who it was and the look changed to one of horror. I had to lift her down and kick her turkey leg back to the living room.

I was worried she had hurt herself, but watching her throughout the day I didnít see any ill effects. No added limping or any tendencies to keep weight off the leg. My goodness she is agile to be able to jump on that high bed. Thank God she didnít slip and bang the knee on the bed frame on the way up.

I could have killed her afterwards. What in the world are we going to do when she really starts to feel good? I shudder to think.

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