Last weekend we really thought

That our little Lucy, already 13 years old, was on her way out. She declined food several days, stayed in her bed, seemed uninterested in goings on. But I think she must be the dog with nine lives (fitting, since she always seemed more cat than dog, having been brought up with two felines)! Last year she had the stroke or whatever that resulted in being unable to walk well (she still struggles a bit). This year this "I'm not eating" bit. Yet today she ate her breakfast, Bekah came over and even took her on a walk, brushed and bathed her, and now she's running around like a crazy dog because she's wet, trying to rub the wet off on the carpet, and searching nonstop for her bed and blanket (which are in the wash!).