I’ve watched and watched as Maggie has furiously scratched and scratched on the floor of my den this afternoon. Lord knows, she doesn’t have fleas as mom makes sure of that being so diligent and OCD with her flea medications. I’ve watched as her collar has spun round and round as she scratches her neck though. She must have gotten into something outside that has made her itchy.
“What if Maggie has allergies?” mom asked a moment ago when she was over here and I remarked about it.
I laughed. I am much like my father about such things and think dogs are far more rustic and resilient than we give them credit for these days.
I finally decided that the best solution to Maggie’s predicament today was to just get down in the floor and start scratching as well. We have scratched and scratched.
“It must be terrible not being able to scratch your back,” I told her.
I took off her collar and scratched her neck real good. I scratched her belly. I scratched her armpits. We scratched everything. Maggie was just in ecstasy.