WHY I'M GLAD MY DOG CAN'T TALK

My darling Sam had surgery this morning to take those nasty stones out of his bladder. We have a routine in the mornings. We get up at 5:15 am. Sam, Lily and I go outside. Then depending how cold it is we all run back in the house. Then they get a drink, and their breakfast. Well first thing Sam does is go for the bowl of water which I promptly pick up. He looks at me like "Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND??? Then Lily runs into her crate, and back out and in her crate (she's expecting breakfast). Well, if I fed her, sometime between then and when Bill took Sam to the vet at 7:30, he would eat. I can't trust something that important to my husband. He would never notice, and then he would say "I didn't know", like that would fix it all. So,neither dog got fed much to their chagrin. I carried Sam into the bedroom because he sleeps with Bill until he gets up. Sam would have none of that. I put him on the bed, and he beat me to the door. 'WHERE'S MY FOOD'. He stares at me with those big brown eyes. I give him a kiss, toss him back on the bed and close the door.

The vet called to say that Sam is doing well. The only thing I don't like about this vet is that he doesn't have anyone there to check on the dogs at night. I hate the thought of my baby being there by himself all night. I hope that he sleeps... I told them he needs to have me as a private duty nurse. Bill was wondering why I didn't offer to be HIS private duty nurse while he was laid up.. Is he KIDDING?