For as long as I can remember, and that’s longer than you think, I’ve felt good. Really good. No matter what I did or how long or hard I did it I felt fine. Maybe a little tired, but nothing a nap wouldn’t fix. OK, there was the time I misjudged the height of a stump and cut my chest on this piece of metal that was sticking out of it. The folks weren’t home, (yes, there had been suitcases involved), but my buddy Tom was staying with me and took me to the vet.
She, the vet, someone who’d been pretty nice to me before, gave me some kind of drug that knocked me out. When I woke up I was all wrapped up in bandages and had this plastic thing around my head. I looked ridiculous. I felt sick and dizzy. I mean, I was fine before I got there. The cut didn’t hurt. What was the big deal? Tom said I’d needed stitches, whatever those are. Personally, I think a nap would have done the trick.
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