"My" Dog.

I got Shelby when I was a third year in law school.  When I moved to Chicago and started working long hours, she made it clear that she was not a fan.  Despite going to doggy daycare every day, she ate my couch, she ate my clothes, she ate my rug.  After a lot of guilt and tears, I sent her to go live with in Colorado with my parents who were home more often and had another dog and two cats to keep her entertained.  It was a happy situation for everyone (at least once I got over missing my dog).

Hanging out on her "dog bed" with one of her cat friends.

While I call her my dog, she has lived with my parents for eight years now and is much more their dog than mine.  And, they love her and take great care of her.  They got her a kiddie pool so she go swimming and blow bubbles during the summer.  They take her to agility classes so she can play on the various pieces of equipment.    They let her turn their nice couch into a gigantic dog bed.

But, today I heard proof that she is definitely my dog.  There were factors before -- we both love the water, we both like hanging around upside down -- but today, I learned that much like me, she has arthritis and needs to shoot up regularly with an anti-inflammatory.  My mom had been worried about her but after she got the diagnosis, she laughed all the way home and how much that dog takes after me.

Arthritic dog needs the hot pad.

Goofy upside downward dog.