He's Still Standing

Maybe not better than he ever did, but he's still on all four feet ... and sometimes on two. (Yes, I gave him a bad hair cut.)

We are now on week three after Roscoe's diagnosis. He's a little more subdued and quiet (unless there is a definite reason not to be). He has settled into his medicine routine, and let's me know when it is time for a pill stuffed in cheese. The prednisone is making him very hungry and he would gladly eat me out of house and home. So we have our peanut butter breaks (thanks for starting that Katie, he goes to the pantry every day begging for it), and he is getting more food than his chunky brother. Even with that he feels ... bony, too thin, fragile. But maybe that is me just being paranoid.

I find myself watching for issues, and I'm not sure what is real and what is my fear. In the last few days I have seen the legs on his right side struggle again to maintain balance. Definitely not as dramatically as before the meds, but there. His eyes look a little dull and it seems like sometimes he just zones out. I don't think I'm imagining that. He sleeps a lot. I know all dogs sleep a lot, but this is different.

But yesterday he decided to play with Sam. It didn't last long but for a minute or two they bounced and barked and postured and were adorable. Joy for them. Joy for me.

So that's the update. Three weeks and we are still standing.