No choice. Bowl’s over.
It goes to reason most would show restraint out of politeness.
So the comments were jarring – if not rude. Well, at least, phrased unkindly.
It wavered back to 194.
Let’s put that down.
The 197 was bound to be downward energy from stepping on.
Possibly from all the heat and humidity?
Water retention, perhaps?
Oh, my. Last fall it was 176?
That must have been an early appointment – with fasting before.
A little probing around the tummy and ribs.
Well, it rained a lot last winter. Hard to get out and exercise.
(And rain makes everyone so sleepy.)
But look how steady and calm now.
(That was an objective. Give us that.)
Able to sit quietly.
Nails strong and neat.
Heard that unspoken word: “FAT”.
(Large sigh and uncertain grumble.)
Good response reaction.
Alert enough to notice a little nose wrinkle at our entrance.
(Really? Not exactly Rodeo Drive here.)
Rushed to make the appointment.
Brushed off all the clinging vegetation from the yard. (Must get out early before things heat up.)
Worked on the path from one side of the house to the other.
A little time spent among the flowers.
Nosed around and checked the bird bath water level.
Monitored the comings and goings of birds and squirrels.
Just working the yard.
That comment, “smells a little like a bait camp”?
A tad harsh.
If so, apology profusely offered.
The grass was wet from the rain, so maybe a trace of that on knees or body?
(Oh, should have checked between toes.)
No claims here of being a fussy debutante.
Too happy-go-lucky for that.
A nature girl.
But gained 20 pounds?
How about double checking that?
Oh. Let’s go with the first number.
Edging towards the door.
Ready to leave.
Not making eye contact.
But hearing the mandate made in no uncertain terms:
Drop the weight.
Cut the food.
Increase the exercise.
And those “snacks” have as much calories as a Snickers bar.
About 6 a day? You’re kidding.
Cut that out.
If she must have a reward, use baby carrots, broccoli, or rice cakes.
(Uh, no broccoli. Delicate tummy. So not a reward for anyone else in the room.)
She refused any acknowledgment.
Nose to the door knob.
Face intense with determination. Silently insisting enough was enough.
Forced to turn and say polite goodbyes, she did so coolly.
Not a peep until safe in the car.
Then all smiles.
“Hey, that’s done. Let’s go home and get back to living.”
Oh, German – What have we done to you?
She was so stressed and thin when she arrived.
Running on nerves.
Gobbling huge amounts of food.
Slowly the frantic eating eased, and we cut back.
Not enough, obviously.
Guess the vet’s right.
It’s the treat choice for behavior modification.
Your mouth is so big, the little snacks seemed so miserly.
(Yes, we know you’d be willing to try RC’s Greenies. We’ll take that under consideration.)
We’ve been given marching orders.
(It’s for her own good.)
So we are up early and hit the streets. And again late at sunset.
The routes twice as long as before.
Carefully measuring scoops instead of approximating.
A narrowed waistline reappearing.
It was there all along, she reassures us.
Just fluffy, not stuffy!
(Hey, a little yogurt’s left in that cup. Yogurt is health food, right? I won’t tell if you don’t.)
Tolerant of serious brushing with a Furminator.
Look, if we get enough of this winter hair off you’ll look sleeker!
And all this extra hair is bound to add weight, right?
Every ounce counts.
All pretty cheerfully accepted.
Except the baby carrots.
A girl has to draw the line somewhere.
Weighing in (and making progress),
Phil, the Philosopher Mouse of the Hedge.
Related posts: Click “German Shepherd” in the sidebar