Juno is the new Lassie. Without the fortune and Rudd Weatherwax.
This afternoon, The Pony and I rolled up the driveway to the sight of Juno romping to the end of the garage. She still was not putting weight on her bad leg, but she was full of energy. She ran around to the porch to wait and peek at me as I left the garage. We had our full-on lovefest. At one point, I thought she was going to jump down to get to me before I got through the door.
As I went up the steps, she playfully nibbled on my fingers on the handrail. She trotted on three legs around the corner to the kitchen door to wait for me. She seemed to be in fine spirits. As I went in, she hustled around the kitchen nook to get to the water dish over by the laundry room door.
Upon entering the Mansion proper, I was accosted by the #1 son. Okay, it was not until I called, "Pizza is here!" that he deigned show his face. But still, as he was filling his plate, he inquired about Juno. The former "boy" pup he just HAD to bring home from Grandma's house. The forgotten pet he has shunted aside for six months now.
"Did Juno come up on the porch for you and Pony?"
"Well, I couldn't get her up on the porch. She would hardly move. I took her a bowl of water, and she lapped it up. I'm kind of worried about her."
"She ran around the garage to see us, then hopped up on the porch. Still on three legs, but she seemed to feel better."
"Oh. Because she looked pitiful when I got home."
That little rascal! Playing the Lame Card to get attention from #1. I need to scan Variety in search of open calls for nondescript, silky black mutts.