Humans have it so easy, what with their big, spacious, uncovered ears.

Poor me.  A few days ago, an overwhelming itch invaded my ear.  I scratched and scratched, until I felt my skin go raw.  But this was no ordinary itch.

Soon, I noticed huge globs of dark ear wax on my paw after scratching.  It carried a sweet, pungent smell.

My Two-Legged Pets took notice and, devoid of any ideas, I stared at them expectantly -- willing them to know what my body was doing.

One vet trip later, we discovered that I have -- wait for it -- a yeast infection in my ear.

Yes.  Yeast.

I have transformed into a sexually promiscuous middle-aged woman.

To send Creak your thoughts:

• add a comment below
• or e-mail him by clicking here
  
  

Sometimes it seems the doctor just isn't listening.

I try and I try to convey to him that my knee pain has been increasing as of late.  I whimper when he's massaging the joints.  I give him my sad puppy dog eyes when he asks how I'm feeling.  I gently pat his hands whenever he tries to walk away -- reminding him I appreciate his attentive care.

And then he says to my two-legged pets, "Creak seems fine.  Pain seems minimal.  I recommend he just gets his rest and drinks his water and everything should be kept in check."

It's as if he hasn't been listening to me at all.

To send Creak your thoughts:

• add a comment below
• or e-mail him by clicking here
  
  

So I think my two-legged pets are trying to poison me again.

Every day, as soon as I have finished my meal, I cannot help but feel itchy all over -- to the point of squirming.  I find myself every afternoon writhing on the carpet, on my back, in pure itching annoyance.

My pets think it is "cute."

But I cannot help but wonder ... what is it I am being fed that causes such a physical disturbance for me?

Rolling on the ground only temporarily relieves my back.  To get to the inside of my paws -- which, believe you me, burn like they are being held aloft a flame -- I find myself licking and gnawing into my paw pad, desperate for my too-short teeth to scratch the burning skin below.

Couple the exertion of rolling around, bending and contorting with osteoarthritis (in four legs, thank you), and it makes for an exhausting afternoon.  Every day.

It has to be something in the food ...

To send Creak your thoughts:

• add a comment below
• or e-mail him by clicking here
  
  

Of all my two-legged human pets, The Daughter is by far the most athletic.

Unfortunately for me, she's also the one who takes me on walks.

As of late, she has decided we should increase our pace, working our "cardio" better.  I don't know what this mystical "cardio" may be but, unless it's a pork-filled treat, I am not interested.

What was once a fun, relaxing (if waddle-filled) activity has now become a nightmare -- my arthritic knees creak and groan with every concrete and asphalt impact.

I try moaning pitifully to remind her of my the shooting pains in my legs.  She looks down at me with what she must consider a winning smile, saying, "C'mon, Creak, this is good for you!"

What I need is a no-impact doggy elliptical.

In the meantime, I'll settle for classic trickery -- I've hidden my leash in a two-feet-deep hole in the backyard.

No more "cardio" for me.

To send Creak your thoughts:

• add a comment below
• or e-mail him by clicking here

So my pets think they're clever.

Hands hidden behind backs before mealtime.  The faint glimpse of a plastic syringe.  A strange cherry sogginess in my normally dry food.

They're trying to poison me.

Ah, the heartbreak!  I cannot imagine what I have done to deserve this fate.  Was it the frequent trips to the doctor for my limping?  Was it the massive amounts of money bits they paid for my osteoarthritis injections?

Have they just grown tired of me?

A deep feeling of remorse has overcome me.  How did this happen?  I never complained about my knee pain, never whining and moaning.  I valiantly kept up with the youngest of the Two-Leggers, even if waddling to do so.

Sure, I may have be hit with a few reverse sneezing episodes as of late, but you would, too, if your soft palette extended into your esophagus.

Where's the loyalty?  The oath to care for one's family -- not harm them?

Sigh.

I must plan my escape before it's too late.

And when I find this Mr. "Benadryl" my pets keep mentioning, I'm going to sink my teeth into him.