My brain had come up with excuses for not working out this morning even before I saw daylight.
When I managed to pry my eyelids open and heave myself up from my floor resting spot next to the patient, I saw a pug--who, having had major cancer surgery 12 hours earlier on top of an eye ulcer that has kept her in the cone of shame for almost a month, was wagging her Frankenstein-esque tail at me and trying to get around the cone to lick my face.
My tough little pug--with 5 inches of stitches in her 3 inch tail (you can probably fill in the blank on the unfortunate spot that the stitches originate)-- woke up more ready for the day's challenges than I did.
I have been put to shame by a 15.4 lb, squished faced, bow-legged, battle-scared dog.
Needless to say, I made it to the gym.
When I managed to pry my eyelids open and heave myself up from my floor resting spot next to the patient, I saw a pug--who, having had major cancer surgery 12 hours earlier on top of an eye ulcer that has kept her in the cone of shame for almost a month, was wagging her Frankenstein-esque tail at me and trying to get around the cone to lick my face.
My tough little pug--with 5 inches of stitches in her 3 inch tail (you can probably fill in the blank on the unfortunate spot that the stitches originate)-- woke up more ready for the day's challenges than I did.
I have been put to shame by a 15.4 lb, squished faced, bow-legged, battle-scared dog.
Needless to say, I made it to the gym.
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