Going down, down, down.

My muscles should be totally huge by now, right? All that work to take care of a broken little dog who can barely walk, must have really chiseled my abs, pecs, quads and lats.

Rooster is 8 weeks post surgery (8 weeks!) and during that time, she needed to be lugged around from room to room, hoisted up on the couch as soon as the first whine came out of her mouth and if she went anywhere near stairs?   Sound the alarm lest she fall to her doom, this princess needs to be carried.  Instead of laying about garnering sympathy points to use towards extra treats and kisses, she has turned into an overachiever shooting her way towards extra credit.

She comes down.

She goes down.

She gets down.

And what am I doing?  Comparing my muscles to this girl.

She totally wins.