He’s not a puppy anymore. Although strangers he runs into on the street, or in the dog park, or on the beach still think he is, based on that eager expression of his, not to mention his hyper activity level.
About a year ago, I thought I noticed that Kemba had slowed down just a tiny bit, and looked a touch heavier then usual. Also, his splendid, plumed tail — his crowning glory — had thinned out and looked kind of scrawny. I brought him in for a checkup, and he was diagnosed with hypothyroidism. Doc put him on Thyrosyn, and jokingly warned me (re: the activity question), “Be careful what you wish for.” Sure enough, in no time he was back to his full-throttle, tireless self. Like a two-year-old again.
Several months later, I detected a hitch in his proud, graceful gait, coupled with a dipping of his head. No one else saw this, but then again, no one else studies his every move the way I do. Off to the vet once more. Doc says he has early-onset arthritis. Prescribes Rimadyl. Again, Kemba bounces right back. Good as new.
So no, he’s not a puppy anymore. Today my boy turns 8 years old. But he’s still his wonderful, friendly, enthusiastic, up-for-anything self. He’s still gorgeous — especially with his summer, salt-water crimped-ears look. He’s still a freak athlete. He’s still regal. And he’s still King of the Beach.
Happy Birthday, Kemba!
YOU CAN ALSO FOLLOW BEAGLE MAN, KEMBA, AND RICKY ON FACEBOOK AND INSTAGRAM.
Leave a Reply