Please forgive me for not writing, because friends should stay in touch, but this has been a wild time. As I get older any change in my routine turns me upside down, and this holiday season had me chasing my elusive tail.

We had things to wrap in noisy paper with ribbons all over the floor. And then there was a fake tree without any real outside smells. Even my play time and walks outside took a back seat to cookie baking, which I hadn't experienced in a long time; actually that wasn't too bad. As the chief floor cleaner-upper, I did a super job licking up all the sweet stuff that fell in my direction.

And of course the freezing nasty weather put me in a funk. The patio snow was so deep even my caregivers felt sorry for me when I reluctantly rang the outside bell. Oh, did I tell you that my caregivers hung a bell on our patio door? All I have to do is hit it with my paw and, boy, do they come fast. But there is one blessing; kudos to the Member Service Staff. They took pity on me and shoveled path after path for my daily "must dos." They are always ready and willing to help all of us. Aren't we lucky!

A cool piece of good news. Megan and Sarah Seibert, my Barrington relatives (also super buddies) have been promised a humongous gift, one like me, and the family search is on. Several shelters have been visited, paper work completed and recommendations checked. They even match the size and dog personality to the adoptive parents. It seems like the process is taking forever; but whatever, big, little, in-between like me, boy or girl, it will be loved. I'm so excited!!

Speaking of a loving family, I have a new friend at the Garlands, Jan Stojack. When we meet on my scooter rides, she is so happy to see me. A treat is always in her kind hand and praise plus oodles of petting are heaped on my furry coat. She also gives me the latest news about another mutual friend, Max Keller, Harry's dog. Then my outside walking companion, Bucky, has been back taking me out if weather permits. How lucky can one get!

Well guess I'd better sign off before this becomes a tome. Happy New Year! Love, P.D.

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Excuse me, please. I've got a gripe, and I just have to get it off my chest. I hate to complain crack out of the box but maybe after I tell you what the deal is, you'll understand. At least those of you who ever have owned a kitten or a cat will get it.

You see, it's now getting cold outside and frankly I love to curl up in the warmest softest spot available. Well, my caregivers have tagged me with a new name, "Cuddle Puss." Do I look or act like a kitten, cat or a four legged animal that purrs or says "meow?" Please, the next time you see us around, set the guy on the scooter straight. My name is P.D. Perfect Dog. And if you believe that, I'll sell you The Garlands' bridge.

Now on a happier note, have I got news for you! Remember I was planning a play date with Toni, the French poodle. Well, it was perfect with one exception. We met as planned, but who was hiding in the bushes...Toni's old boy friend. But he was so fat, with a belly dragging on the ground, that he was no match for Toni's slim figure and swift graceful pace. Of course, I'm used to running along side my scooter, so we out paced him in no time and enjoyed our day together chasing the squirrels and sniffing out other park smells.

And there's more news since the last time I wrote. Stuffed in our cubby were two letters addressed to me. One from Willie and another from Jewel, Bill Youngberg's family buddy. The sad news is that Jewel thinks I'm not big or strong enough to play with him. He didn't even give me a test run. But I have hopes that Willie will come soon for a romp. No way will any other dog take Toni's place, but because she has been shipped off to boarding school, I'm glad to find another friend.

By the way, Jill, do you suppose I could have my own mail box? I've got two snoopy caregivers, and they read my mail before I get a chance to see it. But then, where would I hide the key? I have a big enough problem remembering where I bury my bones. Looking forward to seeing you in the park before the snow flies.

Love, P.D

Labels: active retirement community, Chicago assisted living, chicago senior living, pd the dog, senior living facility

You just won't believe it, because I don't. After sniffing out the entire neighborhood, just maybe I have found a new companion. I can even "humm..." in the rain when told to go outside. Why? Well, I'll put my paw to a pen and tell you all about my good luck!

After my last letter, I received an unbelievable fantastic response. The writer, a poodle named Antoinette, "just call me Toni," enclosed her picture. She looks yummy enough to chew on, and I dream about slobbering her with more kisses than one can count. Actually, her beauty defies description, and I'll even venture to guess that her groomer comes from France!

Not only did she offer T.L.C. for my painful paw, but she is eager for a play date with just the two of us. She even told me that her old boyfriend is past history. How lucky can a guy get?

Her letter has a special hiding place right under my bed, close to my thumping heart. Do you suppose that they have a pacemaker for dogs? Forget e-mail, Twitter, even Facebook. A letter means so much more for you can keep it forever. And this piece of paper will never be chewed up!

There is one problem, however, that I want to share with you. When and if we meet nose-to-nose, will she accept my funny face? To be honest, I lack those pedigree papers that say that your parents came from special families. Mine, however, so I've been told, were so much in love that it didn't matter, even though my Dad was a Shih Tzu and Mom, a Bichon. I guess you might say their blood lines were "black and white" while Toni is as blue as blue can be.

No doubt, Toni's caregiver, C. Peterson, who owns a greeting card company, sent her to a fancy boarding school, while I had only two hours with the "Dog Man" in Arizona, and he didn't teach me anything (so I've been told). In other words, we come from two different worlds. Do you suppose that matters?

And now I am planning our first meeting on the bridge overlooking our garden pond. Let's hope the bleeping bull frog and honking geese won't scare her away. Wish me luck!

Now, please forgive my abrupt departure for breakfast is ready. And guess what I've barked for: a new tasty passion...French toast. Bow wow!

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I can do it!! Yes I can. You see I'm a lefty and this letter will not be perfect because using my right paw isn't the easiest thing to do. But we haven't been in touch for quite a while; thus this attempt.

Why haven't I been more diligent? Well, it's a long story and despite my need to yap out every detail, I'll cut to the chase. I HAD SURGERY. Yup, big time, at least I thought so.

Perhaps some of you saw my bright red bandage that wound around and around my left leg. Their supply of gauze, tape and stretch stuff must have been in mucho supply because it was only the end of my left paw that needed to be protected. Why oh why couldn't they see I'm a big boy and can take care of myself.

Well, back to the surgery. I was poked, prodded, shaved, put to sleep, cut and stitched. I finally woke up in a tiny horrible cage, and I'm not used to a cement floor. Have I got your sympathy? I certainly hope so because don't we all need a dose of TLC at times?

Despite being incapacitated for two weeks, it all turned out for the best, but I drove my family nuts during my recuperation. I couldn't go out for a walk, play with my toys, and jump on the furniture... (don't tell) and have yummy treats. Besides, I had to wear an upside down lampshade at night to keep me from tearing that annoying bandage off. I looked stupid.

But I did get even with my caregivers because they had to stay close to home for fear I would get into trouble, which I've been known to do. Because the doctor's orders had to be carefully followed, I was under their watch 24/7. What a bummer!!

Try as I did, the bandage just didn't come off. But the stitches did; two weeks later. According to the vet, my paw will be back to normal in no time. Until then, more sympathy please.

Love,
P.D.

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