Thud, thump, crash.
That’s the sound of a newly blind dog manoeuvring his way around the house. Head down, he barges on, into walls and doors and chairs.
We talk to him, rattle keys, wave food under his nose and attempt to steer him around furniture.
“Should we move the seats?”
“Where would we sit?”
As the insulin takes effect, we have fewer puddles to clear up. Had we a choice, we’d take the puddles anytime. At least we could clean the floor. We all have a lot of getting used to it to do.
In the meantime, I browse the internet for enlightenment.
Of course, what our girls really want is a guide dog for Jake, because it would be ‘cute’. Apart from having to take 2 dogs out for walks, lifting what needs lifted and all the other tasks that girls find objectionable…