Things that make me happy:

1. Easter.

2. Sunshine during spring break.

3. This surprise bouquet I received the other day. These flowers are pretty to look at and smell delightful.

Things that make me unhappy:

1. My dog, Daisy, who gets chronic staph infections and, this spring, threw in a yeast infection for good measure.

2. Vet bills totaling more than $800.00.

3. This shaved, yeast-infected neck. It does not look pretty and does not smell delightful.

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Ever since I was a little girl, I have been scared of cats. As a child, when my next-door neighbor went on vacation she would pay me to open and shut her drapes, empty the litter box and feed her cat. You can probably tell I am old and this was a long time ago because I just used the word drapes.

That cat’s name was Fluffy and he used to meet me at the door standing on his hind legs, hissing and baring his teeth. Fluffy was a jerk.

My husband grew up with a cat and my kids are constantly asking if we can get one. Never mind that we have two dogs and I could create something cat-like out of our dust bunnies. But, no! As far as us getting one, let’s just say that pigs would need to be flying and a fat lady would have to be singing. Also, the devil would be very cold.

But, apparently my son really wants a cat, because when we were walking around the pet store the other day he was lamenting the fact that we don’t have one.

I said, “I’m sorry, buddy, but I just don’t like cats. I will never have one.”

He thought about that as we approached the register then said, “Oh well. Maybe we can get a cat when you die.”

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A few weeks ago, I pulled a back muscle when I was lifting a case of water. What? Water is heavy. And, sloshy. After it happened, I told my boss that you never realize how much you use your back until you can’t use it anymore.

On Wednesday night my husband suffered a grade 3 rupture of his gastrocnemius, which is a fancy way of saying he badly tore a big muscle in his calf. He was shooting hoops when it happened. Okay, not so much shooting hoops as he was coaching fifth-grade, girl’s basketball. What? Dribbling around 11 year old girls is hard. Especially if you’re 38.

Since then, he has been on crutches and unable to do much. And, let me just say that you never realize how much you use your husband until you can’t use him anymore.

Every single morning, rain, shine, sleet or snow (in Ohio, it’s mostly the rain, sleet and snow part) he walks our dogs. The 11 year old Labrador could probably survive without her daily jaunt, but there is no doubt that she is in such great shape because of my husband, so we like to keep her active.

However, the one year old Labrador, Daisy, needs this exercise. She needs it like I need water, and air and beer.

Every day, my husband walks three miles with the dogs. They run off-leash most of that distance and likely cover twice the ground he does. Then Daisy comes home with her thick tail whacking everything in its path, she grabs a toy, slobbers on my jeans and looks at me as if to say, “I’m just getting warmed up, lady. Let’s play!”

Thanks to my husband’s injury, for the past four days I have been walking the dogs. If you can call it that. It’s more like getting pulled down to the park, letting them off-leash, then running 200 yards through shin-deep snow, in my big, clunky snow boots, to get Daisy because she has run off to steal another dog’s ball.

It is exhausting and after only four days, my body is sore. My left hand is blistered, my ribs feel bruised, I have shin splits and my thigh muscles are like jello. It’s a workout like none other.

I’m actually kind of hoping that I rupture my gastrocnemius.

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1. If you once had a dog who ate a dead bat and you had to pull a string of wet, possibly-rabid bat out of her throat, you may think, “I have never seen anything so disgusting in my life.”

2. When that same dog gets older and decides she likes to roll in other dog’s poop and you find yourself giving her a bath and she does the wet dog shake and soaped-up poop goes flying all over your bathroom, you will realize you were wrong about the bat being disgusting.

3. And, 15 years later when you get a new puppy and see that she likes to roll in dead animals you may find yourself thinking, “If that’s the worst thing she rolls in, things will be okay, because remember that one dog…who liked to roll in dog poop…”

4. Then on a day much like this past Saturday, your new puppy may roll around in horse poop and you’ll think, “Well, it certainly can’t get any worse than this.”

5. But, it’s possible that on the same day, after she’s been bathed and sanitized, that puppy might suddenly decide she likes Mexican food and eat an entire bowl of salsa.

6. Which means you might stay up all night waiting for the explosive salsa-diarrhea you know will come.

7. But, it doesn’t.

8. And you’ll realize you stayed up all night for nothing.

9. Until the puppy throws up and it smells exactly like…horse poop.

10. And you may find yourself thinking, “Seriously? Why couldn’t it smell like salsa?”

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