This is Dobby, he is an unquestionable pain-in-the-ass. What’s interesting is that him being the destroyer of all things and a rampant pain is what will save my life.
Putting aside the whole diabetes blood sugar ups and downs thing for which his scent training has paused while we recover from the hurricane; I get depressed. Yes, it is normal to be upset following a hurricane, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the kind of depression that makes it hard for me to get out of bed. I’m appropriately medicated, but that fun little vacation we took to Washington that lasted three times longer than it was planned for did *not* help with the stabilization of the feels.
So, if I lie here and try to rest (aka-forget the world in sleep) having a 50lb pibble vibrating with energy next to the bed ready to find that next adventure keeps me going.
So, given that he has been farting up a storm next to me it appears to be time to go for a potty break…or at least find a gas mask.
There he is, keeping me going again….*grin*