I have to admit it. Francis does look like an old fashioned dustmop. He is curled up next to me. Sleeping with a full belly. No amount of grooming seems to change his grey, shaggy look. Well, maybe a colorful scarf. Francis is a cockapoo. Soon to be eight. My faithful companion. Always with me.
He came to live with us when he was four. I was wishing for a dog. His owners wishing to get rid of him. Good for us. He is our one and only pet. He loves being part of our tribe. He knows life is good.
One of the tools for managing rheumatoid arthritis is distraction. Francis is a good one for me. I feed him. Let him outside a lot. He is always in the middle of any household activity. He is happy to get along. Easy. He loves to cuddle. We love him.
This last week I had a nice break from my RA. I worked in the yard and I made applesauce bread. I thought I had found the formula. I was happy. I was doing things I hadn’t done in a long time. I was amazed. I wrote an article about it. It lasted six days. Then it was gone. Angry, I deleted the article.
Back to the pain of RA. The pain of a crumbling back. I am not complaining. I have a good life. Francis is right next to me snoozing, waiting for our next activity. Soon it will be time to lower the lights, get settled in our peach, feather bed and cuddle. Tomorrow is another day.