So I haven't been writing much lately. You see, I went through this spell. It's called the horrible two's. I know, dog years and all, so then consider this... I was two and a teenager, all at the same time. Discipline was not my strong suit. I played. I goofed off. I gave attitude. I did what any good, decent, rebellious retriever would - I refused to bring the ball back.
I am uppity and yuppity and no longer a puppy, so less people stop and say hi to me. This, however, is their loss and not mine. I live in a townhome near the Arboretum. When I walk by French restaurants, the people working there run out to say hi. They know I'm a star.
And sure, due to my unique stumpy, I still stop traffic. Cars slow and people stare. Then a smile. I shrug it off and trot along. I can't make everyone's day. It's too huge a burden, even for me.
And hey, I got a prosthetic device. It took a bit to get used to (my dad's yelling at me right now, "That's an understatement!"). So, it took a lot to get used to... therapy, exercises, a new doctor who is a rehab specialist, lots of adjustments, and now I'm on Stage 2! Stage 2 is cool because it has Skulls & Crossbones. Bad. Ass. So yeah, with this thing on, I'm stopping traffic regular. Check it out!