My Take Away

If you are still stopping by to read my blog - bless your heart. I know it hasn't been the most uplifting place to visit lately.  So if you are wondering if I'm writing about dogs again today, yes. But if you've stuck with me this long, keep reading, I promise it will be worth it.

Yesterday was a really tough day for me.  It included a trip to the vet's office to have Belle's "cremains" (I just called them "Belle") moved from a temporary urn to her permanent urn.  Fortunately, Beth at the vet's office helped with this process. She is wonderful and has known us for what seems like forever.  She "gets" us.  

The temporary urn had been sealed so I hadn't seen Belle yet, but I had an idea of what to expect and I wanted to see her.  Once the temporary urn was opened  I held what remained of Belle in my hands, amazed at how we come from so little and return to so little.  I thought of all the things we loved about Belle that made her so special and unique and how those things could not be held in my hands.  I realized that no pretty wooden box, no matter its size,  could ever be big enough to hold all the pure awesome that Belle's 40-pound body contained. 

Then I gently placed her in her new home and the pretty wooden box was sealed.

That's when I started to cry.

It felt like a big "THE END" was being stamped on Belle's existence. 

It made it final. 

I left the vet's office with Belle and headed home.  I sobbed uncontrollably the whole way. You know that big hard sob where you have crocodile tears running down your face, you make those awful wailing sounds, and your face looks really, really ugly??  Well that was me.  I can't imagine what other drivers around me thought and I truly didn't care.  I had Belle with me and we were going home.

Once home I mentally added up the vet bills we have had since September 6 when Belle was diagnosed with kidney problems.  I usually don't focus on the financial aspect of things, so this was unusual for me.  I said to Michael, "Do you realize we have spent ______on vet bills in the last 2 weeks?"

His response:  "You are probably right." 

Then he paused...  "But I would do it all over again.  And I would do it for Willow too."

My heart melted.

Michael had gotten the mail.  We received so many cards yesterday.  The timing could not have been more perfect.  So many said what a fantastic, beautiful dog Belle was and that they felt fortunate to have known her.  (We knew this, but it was nice to hear her awesomeness was recognized by others!)

Some commented on what wonderful care we gave Belle (and Willow) and that it was obvious how much we loved our dogs, even calling our "family" amazing.  Those words meant so much, because no matter how much you have done for your pet,  your mind still seeks out and finds that one thing you think you could have done better.  

For me that one thing was getting to the hospital earlier that Sunday so we could have let Belle go sooner.  I have replayed those last minutes with her over and over in my mind and wished I would have taken my phone into church that morning so I would have known instantly when the vet called to say she had taken a turn for the worse.  

If only I had known about that call earlier... if only.

You can "if only" yourself crazy.

And I did.   

I went to bed and was having this "if only" scenario run through my head. It wasn't guilt because I felt we could have saved Belle if we had gotten there sooner - we know there was nothing that could have been done for her -  it was guilt at making her linger.  It was as if there was a video from the moment I entered the hospital and saw her...and it was on an unending reel of film playing that time at the hospital with her over and over and over. 

Then I heard a voice in my head.  I have talked to, with, and for Belle for 4 years, so I knew the voice well when I heard it.  

Belle:  "Seriously Mom?  Four years with me and that is your take away? Those last few moments we shared together are all you can think of?"  

Basset hounds are very wise.  It's not easy being chastised by a basset hound, but sometimes it is necessary.

So my take away is this:

We were incredibly blessed to be owned by Belle, she loved us like crazy and was such a faithful friend.  In turn, she was blessed to be part of our family.  No one could have loved her more than we did.  We wished we could have had more time with Belle, but not knowing her at all would have been the real tragedy.

Willow is one lucky dog to have had such an awesome sister to show her the ropes - like how to root really good in a blanket, how to walk through the mulch to keep your paws dry, and where to lay to catch the best rays.

I am beyond blessed to have an amazing husband who has such a heart for our dogs and loves them as much as I do.

*******

Belle is going to be missed like crazy and there will still be tears, I can guarantee you that, but she is telling me it is time to shift my focus and remember all the wonderful moments we shared.  

And she's says there's a squirrely basset here named Willow who needs walked, some trips to the dog park, road trips, some extra attention while she adjusts to being an only dog, and lots of belly rubs.

The physical organic matter that was Belle is back home, safe and secure in a beautiful wooden box.  But the essence of Belle - what made her so awesome, unique, and special is tucked away even safer in our hearts.

Well done, Belle.  

Just Visiting

It is said when we dream about those we have loved and lost they are not simply dreams, but it is their way of visiting us, spending time with us, saying "hello."

I love when my Mom and Dad pop in for a visit.  They often visit in the context of a family get together so I get to "see" my siblings too.  Just as special are the one-on-one visits with them. 

One time when my mom visited we spent the longest time together and did a lot of walking.  I remember wondering how my mom was walking so effortlessly, as typically she struggled to breathe with any amount of activity, but in that visit we walked on and on.   Then at one point she started walking away from me. As hard as I tried I could not catch up to her.  The faster I went the farther ahead she seemed to get until  she finally disappeared from sight. 

It was as if she was saying, "You can't come with me right now."

Our beautiful, stubborn basset Belle, loved spending time with her "D-A-D, Dad."  On the weekends I was usually up early with the dogs and let Michael sleep in.  I would completely close the bedroom door until it latched shut so Belle would not go in and wake Michael. 

A closed door meant nothing more than a mere speed bump to Belle.  I can't count the number of times I would just be settling down on a weekend morning with a cup of chai and a blanket in the living room and I would hear "thump" followed by a slight "creak."  Belle had pushed her nose against the bedroom door hard enough to open a latched door, and waltzed in to check on Dad.

Many times the "thump", "creak" woke Michael and she would look at him as if to say, "Oh, you're awake!"   

Last week Michael dreamed she pushed the bedroom door open, came in and sat by his side of the bed, just gazing up at him.  Amazingly, it wasn't the gray-muzzled Belle we had grown so accustomed to seeing.  It was a younger Belle, one we would have trouble picturing right now no matter how hard we tried. With the passage of time you slowly grow accustomed to the changes and remembering Belle before that gray crept in is hard to do, but that's how she appeared to Michael. 

It was as if Belle was saying, "See Dad, I'm okay.  I just came to check on you and let you know I'm fine." 

Michael was so excited to tell me about his dream.  It meant so much to him.

It wasn't until later that we realized this had happened on a Saturday morning, the first Saturday morning since she had passed away.  Belle was keeping her usual weekend routine.

I admit I was jealous.  I thought, "Hey, what about me Belle???"

But I know I'll get a visit at some point in time.  She just needed to let her Dad know she was okay, and that she misses him as much as he misses her. 

The Unexpected

I'm a creature of habit.  I like order, I like routines, I like the expected same ole' same ole'.  Oh I like the good unexpected as much as anyone else....but for the most part I am content with keeping my routine, well... routine. 

Unfortunately life is full of unexpected moments and days that are not of the pleasant variety.    

Ten days ago our oldest basset, Belle (aka Bellso, Bellsy, Little Big Dog, Puddin' & Pie, Silly Girl, etc.) was diagnosed with a kidney infection,  placed on antibiotics and we began subcutaneous fluids here at home.  By last Wednesday she needed to be hospitalized so she could receive IV fluids to better flush her kidneys and bring her elevated kidney values back down.  By Friday her kidneys were responding nicely and it was anticipated she would be coming home Monday or Tuesday of this week, once she had started eating again. 

Kidney issues can make a dog (or person) feel nauseous so Belle was given anti-nausea medication to help settle her stomach so she would want to eat.  When she still wasn't eating  a stronger anti-nausea medication was given as well as an appetite stimulant.  Belle, a lover of all things food, would not even eat her favorite foods (typically not permitted unless we were trying to give medication):  peanut butter, chicken and cheese. 

Because her kidney values were responding so well and her lack of appetite seemed to be the main thing that needed improvement they were looking at placing a feeding tube to get some nutrients into her.  She needed those nutrients to get her strong and back home again. It seemed like a pretty straight forward treatment plan as imaging studies showed nothing worrisome.

Before I go any further, yes, I said feeding tube and yes, I am talking about a dog.  I know, I get it.  But to us our dogs are family members. When we adopted them we promised to do the best for them that we could, while always keeping their quality of life a top priority.  That is probably the biggest struggle pet owners face.

How far do you go?  

How much do you spend?  

What test do you finally say no to?  

It is uncomfortable to have that discussion because you feel you are placing a dollar value on their life.  It would be awesome if we could all walk in and say, "No matter what the cost, do it."  

But that's not realistic.  

When Belle was first evaluated at the hospital the doctor came up with a care plan for her:  studies and tests they would need to do to rule in or out specific diagnoses, possibly more tests depending on those results, and finally the anticipated treatment.  They give you a cost estimate with a low and high end and you pay a 50% deposit of the high end at that time.  If the expenses get close to the maximum you agreed upon, the doctor lets you know.

Even typing that paragraph felt awkward, but I had to get it out there.  

Michael and I had been praying for Belle.  We were thrilled her kidneys were responding, but we couldn't believe she wasn't eating. The doctor treating her would call once a day with a report and the 4th year vet med student also taking care of Belle called us twice a day with updates.  Each time the phone rang we expected to hear she was eating.  We even visited her and took her some boiled chicken, but she had no interest in it.  On Saturday both the doctor and student told us they would need to place a feeding tube the next day if she didn't eat on her own. It's a very minor procedure done under a light anesthetic.  

Michael and I prayed so hard.  We knew within a few days we would be reaching the high end of that estimate and then the really tough conversations would need to take place and even tougher decisions would need to be made.  We prayed if she was going to get better that we see improvement soon.  We prayed for God to let us know what we were supposed to do for Belle.

The next morning He did just that.  Belle took a turn for the worse before the feeding tube could even be placed.  The doctor felt she'd had a stroke.  We rushed to the hospital knowing our decision had been made for us.  

I leaned over Belle, petted that beautiful head, stroked those velvety ears, and looked into those brown eyes that were always so expressive  - for what I knew would be the last time.  Through tears I told her repeatedly how much we loved her,  what a wonderful friend she was and how brave she was...

....and she quietly slipped away.

Getting a dog is easy.  Letting them go is the hardest thing ever.  

I think part of me knew last week that this was going to be the outcome.  I cried a lot last week and really couldn't understand why I was so upset as all signs pointed toward a recovery, except for the struggle to get her to eat. 

Grief is grief, whether it is related to humans or our pets. The same stages of grief still apply.

Tuesday night I was mad at God.  Belle was supposed to be back home by now..  with us... enjoying life large and on the sectional.  She was only 10.  She should be giving that bunny in the back yard a run for its money.  She should be enjoying blankets and laying by the door catching rays.  

God let me have my pity party.

Then as only God can do He wrapped His grace around me, told me He loved me in spite of my anger, and reminded me that He always knows what is best.

God answers prayer, but we don't always get the answer we want.  Belle had the best medical care available both by our regular vet and the staff at ISU's small animal hospital, but God trumps medicine every time.

Willow is trying to understand all this, just as we are.  When we brought Belle's things home we got out Belle's collar.  Willow smelled it and started crying. She went to the door - the last place she had seen Belle  - and cried.  She finally cuddled up next to me, put her head on my lap, and the crying continued.  The other night we took Willow with us to run some errands and when we got home she ran through the house, looking for Belle in each room.  While at times she appears to know Belle is gone and seems to have matured suddenly, at other times she looks with hopeful expectation at the door as if she is waiting for her to come home once again.

Michael misses Belle following him around in the morning as he gets ready for work. Those two had an amazing bond.  He was "her main man...her D-A-D, Dad."  She would go in each morning and keep him company and I would hear Michael talking to her. He would leave for work saying, "Goodbye Bellso" and she would watch him pull out of the drive and down the street.  Then, faithful as ever, she anxiously waited for him to return each day. And each night after Michael and I prayed, kissed each other goodnight and said "I love you" he ended his day with "Goodnight Belle"  before turning off the light.  She was definitely his dog. 

I miss her company during the day, her tolerance of my singing, her therapy ears, her snoring, and her presence.  I miss her laid back attitude. I miss her keeping the neighborhood and our home secure.  I even miss that sigh she gave me when I would tell her not to lick her paw - even though that sigh was really the equivalent of a human eye roll. I miss her personality.

We received a note from Brittany, who used to work at our vet's office and would take care of Belle when we boarded her:

"I just wanted to personally give you my condolences. Belle was amazing.  I loved her like she was my own, especially when she boarded. She was the first basset I had ever met and was the reason I decided to go on a hunt for a basset of my own.  If it wasn't for her I would have never gotten Kelso.  She was so lucky to have an amazing and loving family. And I'm deeply sorry for your loss."

I remember Brittany telling us excitedly about her new basset, Kelso, and that she had gotten him because of Belle.  We knew Belle was awesomely special, but it was so nice to hear from so many other people who loved Belle.  The prayers that went up for Belle were such a comfort to us.

I'm no longer mad at God, not at this moment anyway. Grief is funny that way, one minute you are sad, the next accepting, and the next... pick a stage.

They say the decision to end a pet's life is a decision to end their suffering and begin your own in his or her place. 

They couldn't be more right. 

*****

Dear Belle:  

We loved you so much it was so hard to let you go, but we loved you too much to make you stay.  

We were so blessed that God entrusted us with such a sweet soul. You were a faithful friend, a great listener, a trusted confidante,  a security dog, and comic relief in one adorable package. 

These words seem so inadequate when compared to the countless hours of unconditional love and devotion you gave us, but  I just can't find the perfect words to wrap up in a neat little package everything you meant to us.  

I think the poem Rainbow Bridge says it best.

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.  There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.  There is plenty of food, water,  and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. 

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor.  Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.  The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing;  they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind. 

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance.  Her bright eyes are intent.  Her eager body quivers. Suddenly she begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, her legs carrying her faster and faster.

You have been spotted and when you and your special friend finally meet you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together.

- A variation of the poem by William H. Britton

Will Work For Treats

The other evening this was the sight at our house.

It's nothing unusual, it's the norm.

We talked about the fact that the dogs were sleeping... again.  The next thing I knew Michael had the Kindle.  

Me:  "What are you looking up, D?"

Michael:  "I'm looking up why dogs sleep all the time."

Here are some interesting doggy facts he discovered:

1.  The average pampered house dog sleeps 50% of the time, rests 30% of the time, and is active 20% of the time.  

2.   Doggy sighs, much like human sighs, mean dogs are content.  

(Except when I threaten to spray Belle's paws with Bitter Apple  - aka "Apple Dapple" to keep her from licking them.  All it takes is to say "Apple Dapple" and I get a dog sigh, however, that sigh is the equivalent to a human rolling their eyes.)  

3.  Dogs sleep so much because they are bored.  

4.  Nonworking dogs sleep because they have no responsibilities.  

5.  Dogs rest to conserve energy.  With the energy conserved at our home Alliant should be paying us each month. 

So we thought maybe we needed to give Belle and Willow some responsibilities.  We brainstormed some jobs we could give the dogs.  Since July is National Ice Cream Month we thought about saddling up Belle and Willow with mini saddles with cup holders and sending them to McDonald's to fetch us ice cream cones. The image was fun to picture, but we really couldn't imagine them returning with two intact cones.  

To be honest we couldn't come up with any chores to give them.  Belle is already in charge of security in the house and neighborhood and Willow is comic relief.  They are both wonderful company and listen really really well. Okay, I need to clarify that sentence:  they are good listeners!... listen well as in obeying commands  - not so much.  

I guess maybe they are already doing their "job" as they make our home complete.    

But... if you find you need someone to chase a squeaky stuffed frog, lay in your flower beds, hold down the blankets on the sectional or sofa, snore you to sleep, bark when the UPS guy arrives, let you know when it is 4:30 p.m., follow you around the house so you are never lonely, or go in and out of the house repeatedly for no reason at all - these are your girls.  

Will work for treats.

****

Reference sources:

petmd.com

ehow.com

yahooanswers.com

The Road Less Traveled

When I was little (and even when I was not so little) I loved going barefoot in the summer.  I pretty much went barefoot when out and about in my yard every summer until 4 years ago, when I almost stepped on a frog. That made me think twice about going barefoot.  Seeing garter snakes the year after that clinched the deal.  This woman now wears shoes.  I miss the feeling of soft grass between my toes 

So imagine my confusion when Belle and Willow appear to avoid the grass in the back yard at times.  Instead of just wandering around in the grass they have forged their own path to navigate the yard.  Maybe with all the rain we had this spring and summer they have gotten tired of traipsing through wet grass.  

If Belle and Willow were a TV show, Belle would be the lead character and Willow would be the flaky side kick.  Belle knows she isn't supposed to be in the landscaping and Willow, just following Belle's lead, is...well, Willow.  

So come with me as we retrace the steps of the rebel bassets on...."the road less traveled."  

Spot Belle in the yard in the picture below?  Yeah, well that's not normal.  She is acting like she always walks in the yard, but  since I'm outside with her taking pictures she is trying to stay out of trouble. Typically they go right off the deck steps and into the mulch, Belle in the lead, Willow behind.  They love to walk  in the mulch and on the pavers.

Then they turn the corner and head north, weaving between the hostas and solar lights.  It is like a doggy obstacle course!

After that they round the next corner, always staying close to the deck. Don't ask me how they get by these hostas, I have no clue.  I just know I can tell where they are by the rustling I hear.  

This is a view of the next bed.  Here is where things start to get interesting because they weave back behind the yard ornament and then in front of the solar light and yellow flowers.  At one time there were shasta daisies in this bed... and a bunny had babies there so Belle has to check it out just in case. 

Next on the list is this flower bed where they root around in the mounding geranium.  The bunny had babies there the following year and Belle has not forgotten it.   

Then they go out and around the egress window to this flower bed.  Weave, weave, weave.  Gotta hunt for critters.

Remember that horrible looking flower bed?  I can't keep them out of it. It is where they go to look at the front yard and sidewalk on this side of the house.   If any of these flowers are brave enough to return next year I will be surprised.  If I had $1 for each time I have told them "Out!",  pointed, making it clear what I want them to do, and been rewarded with them looking at each other as if to say, "Is she talking to us?" look....well I could buy a lot more mulch for the dogs.

Then they go along the neighbor's fence.  Belle is in charge of security and likes to check the perimeters to make sure they are secure.  Chelsea, a lab,  lives on the other side of this fence, so they have to listen for her. This is also a great spot to munch on some grass.  

Then it is into this flower bed, cuz mulch feels so awesome on the paws.  I know, the bird bath still has not been cleaned.  Don't judge.  I'm herding bassets here and trying to keep them out of the landscaping.  It is a full-time job.

Then it's time to check the back of the yard.... scanning the fence and looking for intruders as they go.  And if Steve and Zoey are out (the dogs who live behind us), it's a quick "hi" to them.

The last flower bed is this one.  They loiter a bit and eat some more grass.  I keep telling them they are not cows but once again get that, "Is she talking to us?" look.

Then it is time to check the last fence line.  There's usually not much to catch their interest here, unless Karsyn and Maddison are outside.  The dogs, especially Willow, love getting attention from them. 

Here's Willow showing off her mulch-surfing and paver walking skills. It is pretty interesting to see them walk the pavers like a balance beam.  I have to admit they are pretty good at it!

 

And Belle, who taught Willow everything she knows, can't resist taking the road less traveled, even though I am right there watching.

Time to head back into the house.  The perimeter is secure!

Bassets are known for being stubborn. They may look slow and not so bright, but don't let that look fool you.

They just like taking the road less traveled.  

Wellness Wednesday - Belle & Willow's Guide To Good Living

A few weeks ago I woke up with a horrible head cold. I had the sniffles off and on for a week or so and thought I was going to avoid a full-fledged cold.

Apparently not.  

I was miserable.  My head throbbed, I could not breathe well and I was so exhausted!  The pounding headache made it impossible to concentrate. All I wanted to do was sleep.  

As I was sitting swaddled in blankets, feeling foggy and drained, 

I looked at Willow and Belle.  I started wondering if we really are the "superior species".  Seriously, when is the last time your dog had a cold or the flu? I thought, "How it is that they don't get sick with the flu and colds like we do?"  

Then it hit me.  We humans will run ourselves ragged trying to get our to-do lists done.  We pack our schedules full of unnecessary things only to complain there are never enough hours in a day.  Then when we get sick we wonder why. 

 I definitely think I could learn a thing or two from Belle and Willow.  If asked, I think this is the list they would give me on how to live a bit healthier.  

Belle & Willow's Guide to Good Living

Sleep when you need to.  Just crash, it's okay!

Get crazy once in a while.

Don't get wrapped up in having a bunch of stuff, love is what's important.

A treat is good once in a while.

Cuddle as much as you can.

Enjoy the sun while it is shining.

Protect your people.

Greet your loved ones at the door with exuberance and enthusiasm.

Forgive and forget.  

Slow down.


Enjoy the simple things.

Go for a walk, they're fun! 

Love unconditionally.

Omaha

I've written that I work from home and Belle and Willow keep me company.  We talk back and forth and have some awesome conversations.  It's a great life! 

Well, okay, I talk back and forth for all of us.  It is kind of like doing a ventriloquism act without having to pretend I'm not doing all the talking. 

When it is time to go to work each morning I say, "Time to work! Work, work, work!" and I head back to the office.  On very rare occasions they are already in the office waiting for me, occasionally they follow me and start work "on time," but more often than not they just stay rooted to the sectional, open their heavy eyes just long enough to look at me as if to say, "Oh Mom, thank you for inviting us, but we are really comfy here, so you go on and do what you have to do and we ...........zzzzzzzz." 

Then an hour or so later, when they wake up, they slowly wander back. 

It is truly a dog's life. 

Once at work, they pretty much do the same thing they do in the living room.....sleep, but when they do it in the office we call it "work."    

Sleeping....(on the living room sectional)....

Working (in the office.)  


See the difference? 


Neither do I.



I wish my work looked like that.  

About 10:00 I take a break.  In order to let them know it was break time (really meaning time for them to go outside) I used to say "Breaker breaker 1-9!"  (If you are younger than me, that was CB talk in the "old days.")  

Then I got to where I added to my break blurb  and started saying "Breaker, breaker 1-9, 85-64, hut! hut!"  You know, like a football player.  

I have no clue where it came from, so don't ask.  Just read along like this is totally normal and go with the flow.  

Well a week ago, if you watch any football at all, you heard Peyton Manning of the Denver Broncos say "Omaha" when  calling plays.  Usually I don't catch much of what the quarterback is saying, but on that day I was walking through the living room and heard him call one play and said to Michael, "Did he just say Omaha?"   I believe the NFL announcing crew actually counted the number of times he said Omaha during that game.  So of course last week I had to expand my break routine to "Breaker, breaker 1-9, 85-64, hut! hut! - Omaha!"  

The dogs understand it and anxiously get up, after all they have worked hard and are ready to stretch their short little legs.  

I hope I don't add anymore to this break routine, or it will take me my whole break just to announce it is break time.

Random Monday

When I spotted Willow's handiwork it was obvious she had been into more than the toy basket.  I couldn't help but be reminded of the Sesame Street song, "One of these things is not like the others...."

"Pat, I would like to buy a vowel please."




Lastly, we went to Iowa Wild hockey games Friday night, Saturday night, and Sunday afternoon this weekend. I don't know how the players do it - we were tired just attending the games.  

You know you are on hockey overload when you glance at your coffee cup and instantly find your brain doing the chant, 
"Let's Go Go-d!" ......"Let's Go Go-d!"

The Basset Routine

Meet Willow and Belle


Willow  
Age:  3-4 years old (acts 2)
Temperament:  Squirrely, vibrant, energetic
Likes:  Never met a toy she didn't like
Loves:  Treats, turning circles, lunchtime and breakfast, sleeping, the sectional, blankets, Belle, and being with her people.


Belle
 Age:   9
Temperament:  Mature, in charge of security, past the toy stage.
Likes:  Tricking Willow on occasion -  yet very protective of her, curling up against Mom's legs to sleep at night.
Loves:  Treats, lunchtime and breakfast, sleeping, the sectional, blankets, and being with her people. 

After we have been gone for a weekend or longer and have had the dogs at the "spa" there is always the same routine to Willow and Belle getting reacclimated.

First is getting picked up at the spa (aka: the vet's where they board and are spoiled).  They come down the hall to greet us barking like crazy (Belle) and "arooing" gloriously (Willow). It is hard to tell if we are being chewed out or praised at this point.  I choose to believe the latter.  

Then they jump in the car and get harnessed up for a safe ride.  Amazingly Belle is always able to jump in the car herself when ready to go home, other times she would like assistance, please.

Once home they run in the house (still barking and arooing) just long enough to head to the back door.  Then they go outside to do a security check and make sure the backyard has not changed in their absence.

Once the perimeters are judged to be secure, they run back in the house and drink what seems to be gallons of water  - like they haven't had any for days.  And in true basset form, they each walk away from their water bowl leaving a trail of water drool as they go so we can easily track them if needed.  We keep a towel nearby for just this reason.

They run into the dining room, around the dining room table, back to the living room, down the hall to the office, back out into the hallway and repeat the process until worn out (aka:  The Basset 500)  - all while barking and "arooing".
(During this part it is just best to stay out of the way or injuries could occur.  Bassets may look slow but they are not! And to get in the way of 2 running at top speed through narrow areas at times is just asking for trouble.)

  They then throw themselves on the floor and rub their backs on the carpet and moan.   I guess in the dog world this is pretty awesome and means "Ah, I'm finally home!"  Maybe it is akin to how we feel when we get back in our own bed and sigh?

And last - jump onto the sectional, claim a blanket, nest, and crash hard. 

And I do mean hard.

They are guaranteed to be out until bedtime...only to rouse themselves enough to go outside, get a treat, and head back to bed to sleep... again.

I don't know what goes on at the "spa" that has them so exhausted, but I do know "what happens at the spa stays at the spa."  

It's a ruff life.