I Am Not Patient at Being Patient

Well, it appears that recovery is not what I thought it would be. Bones delivered to my feet daily, tasty morsels of extra food tossed into my bowl "to keep my strength up," and frequent massages to maintain my level of comfort.

Instead, I am given pills, get scolded if I give attention to my stitches, and am not allowed to chase squirrels. I am not being taken in the car as frequently as before, and I am not having my normally scheduled playtimes with my toys.

I am not having fun.

I have five more days before my stitches are removed. There better be a party waiting when all this is done and over.


I Am Shiba. I Am Not Good at Being Good.