Hi, it’s me.
Mom’s Baby Bear.
Mom’s Baby Bear.
Yesterday was a hard day, not for me exactly, but for my best friend, Summer.
I could tell something wasn’t right before anyone even said it out loud. Dogs know things like that. Her ears were different. Not her ears themselves, but how she held them. Lower. Quieter. Like she didn’t feel like playing, and Summer always feels like playing.
Mom said Summer had to go to the doctor because something might be stuck in her ear. I didn’t like that at all. I know what it means when we go to the doctor. There are bright lights and funny smells and people who try to help, but it doesn’t always feel like help when you’re the one on the table.
I stayed home, but I thought about her the whole time.
I imagined her being very still and very brave. That’s what Summer does. Even when she’s uncomfortable, she doesn’t make a big fuss. She looks at her people like, “I trust you. Please help me.”
They thought it might be a foxtail.
I don’t like foxtails. I don’t think any dog does, even if we don’t always know they’re there at first. They look small and harmless, but they are sneaky. They can get into ears, or noses, or even stick into paws when we’re just running and playing like we always do. And once they get in, they don’t come back out on their own. They only go deeper, and that can really hurt.
Mom says that’s why she watches us so carefully. Mom and Uncle Anthony check our ears. They look at our paws. They pay attention when we shake our heads, sneeze too much, or start licking at one spot over and over again. It’s their way of protecting us from things we don’t understand.
When Summer went to the doctor, everyone thought they would find a foxtail. But when they looked, it wasn’t there after all.
I felt so relieved when I heard that.
But you know what I was even more proud of?
Summer.
Because even though it turned out not to be a foxtail, she still had to go through all of it. The worry. The discomfort. The doctor visit. The not knowing.
And she did it like the goodest, bravest girl.
When she came home, I could tell she felt better. Her eyes were softer again. Not so worried. Not so tired. Just my Summer.
I stayed close. But not too close, because sometimes when you don’t feel good, you need a little space. But close enough so she knew I was there.
That’s part of my job now.
Taking care of the people I love.
Especially Summer.
Bravery doesn’t always look like barking at the door or chasing something across the yard.
- Sometimes, being brave is being still.
- Sometimes, being brave is trusting.
- And sometimes, being brave is just getting through the day.
And I think Summer did all of those things.
Mom’s Reflection
When Summer wasn’t feeling well, you could see it immediately in her expression. There is something about a dog’s eyes that tells the truth long before words ever could. Her ears were lowered, her energy was quiet, and she didn’t look like herself.
What struck me most through all of this was not just the concern we felt, but the quiet courage she showed. Even when she was uncomfortable, even when she didn’t understand what was happening, she trusted the people caring for her. That kind of trust is something we should never take for granted.
While this time it wasn’t a foxtail, the experience was a powerful reminder of how real that danger is. These tiny, seemingly harmless grasses can become serious very quickly, working their way into ears, noses, and paws. They don’t dissolve or fall out on their own. They require attention, awareness, and often veterinary care.
As we move into the warmer months, it’s something worth remembering. A quick check after walking. Noticing small changes in behavior and trusting our instincts when something feels off.
And this morning brought the best kind of update.
Summer is home, resting in her favorite spot while life quietly moves around her. No stress. No fear. Just the comfort of being where she belongs.
There is something deeply reassuring about that image.
Grateful that she is okay. Gratitude for attentive care.
And gratitude for the quiet resilience our animals show us every single day.
And gratitude for the quiet resilience our animals show us every single day.
Sometimes the bravest moments are the quiet ones. And Summer reminded us of that in the most gentle way.
Thank you for reading this blog post. If you have any questions or comments, please leave them in the Comments section below.
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