Poor Robbie.
How did he ever have the bad karma to end up with me as his caretaker?
He’s 14 years old now and I have to keep an eye on him, and when I walk through the living room or kitchen and don’t see him, I start hunting him out.
This morning I found him in the utility room which is as dark as a dungeon when the light is out, laying on the floor with his head in his tipped up, dry as a bone, water bowl. Oh, he didn't spill his water, he drank it all down to the last dregs, and is in there licking the dry bowl.
This of course makes me feel terrible. But not terrible enough, because in a few days it will probably happen again.
For a while I put his food and water dishes out in the kitchen where I could see them and know when he needed more water. But we moved a table in the kitchen and had no room for said dishes any more. So off they went into the dungeon. So I do miss the fact that he has no water pretty often, and even more so now.
The head in the bowl is the first phase of “Hey Ditzy, I am out of water, AGAIN!” If that fails he sometimes comes in and looks at me wherever I am, and does a little polite “woof”. The final phase is the rather loud and impatient, “BARK!” while he stands in the middle of the kitchen looking at the sink.
I am sure if he could talk, he would have a few choice words to say to me on the subject. Although I have no idea what dog curse words would be. Maybe something like:
“What’s wrong with you, girly girl, can’t you see that the water bowl needs attention?” Or “You can remember to brush your teeth fleabait, how about adding, ‘fill the intelligent Sheltie’s water dish’ to your To-Do list?”
I think he is too polite to stoop to crudities. But I DO wonder about that “BARK!” from time to time.
But whatever he might be saying, I deserve it, although to be fair, I am getting older too. I sure hope someone remembers to fill MY water dish when I am 98 years old, but I sure hope I won’t have to bark for it!