Guy has been progressing like a fiend. Today, I coaxed him into a trip to the transfer station, where Steve O'Neill hands out treats to all worthy dogs. While waiting eagerly in the hatchback compartment for his reward, our neighbor Hendon Chubb paused in his recycling to pay homage to M. Le Guy. One look at Hendon, and Guy heaved himself from a sit into a full stand -- the first time in almost two months. No sling, no human support, no special effects, just pure canine will.
Blissed out... all the hind leg chakras activated, but not enough kundalini to get in the way of a solid nap.
A visiting veternary technician took advantage of the Vermeer lighting to give Guy some physical therapy. It's closer to "Girl with a Pearl Earring" than "The Astronomer," but maybe it's from a lesser known period by the painter
Sometimes Guy channels the spirit of Diana Ross, even though his fur has too much red ticking to be a Bob Mackie gown.
A visitor tries to cajole Guy into some keyboard stylings, but he ain't willing.
Oh, great Hound, hear my plea. Through Thy canine providence, help me get my rear paws as strong as my front paws, and my front paws as strong as they used to be. Otherwise I will be unable to do thy bidding in catching the cat, who offends Thee by scuttling by and refusing to come within reach.
