Nobody remembers when the limping started

You always think you'll remember. Then you're in the room, the vet asks how long she's been doing it, and the best you've got is “a while?” — which helps nobody. So the Health Hub is four lists you can fill in from the sofa: weight, medications, reminders, notes. Every one of them is scoped to the dog on screen, so a household with two dogs on it never crosses the wires.

Those four aren't the whole screen. Nutrition and Activity sit above them, and so does the way in to the weekly wellbeing report — that last one is Whisperer and up, and the only gated thing on the hub.

The weight list is the one that quietly matters. Type 28, or 28kg, or 12,4, or 62 lb — it takes all of them, and converts the pounds. The journal is the single source of truth for weight from there on: the dog's profile just mirrors the latest weigh-in back as text, and the calorie range over on Nutrition reads the same number.

In order: who the dog is — name, breed, age, sex, neutered, latest weight. The weight history as a table of the newest fourteen weigh-ins, with a small curve sketched above it that plots the lot — once there are two points to draw a line between. Current medications only, under a column headed Dose (as recorded by owner), because that is exactly what it is. Your newest fourteen notes from the last ninety days, each dated. Vaccination and reminder dates with a status column. And last, the mood-read trend.

The empty parts say so out loud — No weigh-ins recorded. Nothing noted in the last 90 days. Nothing is padded out to look fuller than your journal is. The caps are the reverse of that, and they don't announce themselves: if you write something down most days, what you hand over is the recent fortnight, not the quarter.

The mood section is the exception: with no reads behind it, it isn't printed at all. When it is, it counts only reads that passed the quality gate, and one small grey sentence sits above the bars — how many owner-recorded video reads it's drawn from, their average model confidence, and then the words owner-supplied context, not instrumentation. It says what the number is and what it isn't, which is the least a vet should be handed.

Every page is footed Journal kept by the owner in Dogoos — not veterinary advice. The reminder table adds its own line: those dates are owner-set, and the practice's records are the ones that count.

Vaccination, worming, flea & tick, and custom for everything else: the senior check-up, the groomer, the follow-up nobody booked. Each arrives with a sensible repeat you're free to change — yearly for vaccinations, every three months for worming, monthly for flea, one-off for custom.

Each one becomes a real scheduled alarm on the phone, not an email and not a badge that only turns up if you happen to open the app. It's set for 9am on the due date, and it's an inexact alarm on purpose: Dogoos never asks Android for the exact-alarm permission, because minute precision is meaningless for a lepto booster — so the phone is allowed to take its time. The wording is deliberately flat: Due today. Your vet's schedule is authoritative — check the Health hub.

Two limits come with that. Only your next thirty-two reminders sit in the phone's alarm queue at any one time, soonest first — it's a deliberate bound on the OS alarm budget, and Dogoos rebuilds the queue every time you change something. And anything already due or overdue gets no alarm at all: the Health Hub badges it on the screen instead, which is a deliberate refusal to nag you about the thing you already missed.

That isn't a disclaimer bolted on at the end. It's written into the header comment of the file the screen is built from, above the first line of code — and it's why there is no dose calculator, no symptom checker and no triage flow in an app that otherwise runs on AI.