Yesterday, the day after cx-mas, I took Kelly to the vet because she's been licking at her left front paw. Zor said it had been bleeding, but I examined the foot and didn't see any evidence of that. In fact, I didn't see anything wrong with it, and feeling around didn't show me anything either, no glass, no gravel. I was puzzled, but not particularly worried, until Cobie started trying to lick it too. Then T-Moth touched her paw and she yiped. Kelly doesn't yipe, even when Cobie steps on her, so.
We use a multi-veterinarian practice, mostly because Cobie gets carsick and it's close. I like all the vets we've seen there, but this particular vet's name is Wolf so I love her more. They took Kelly to the back to examine her away from me, which always worries me, and I heard Kelly whine a little. Then Dr Wolf said her claw was cracked down by the flesh where the claw grows out of the foot, and that it was very inflamed and painful, and she wanted to (asked if she could) keep Kelly for a while so she could give her a mild sedative, clean the area (mud season has dunlap disease this year; it's dunlapped over the holidays) and treat it without traumatizing the poor thing.
After laying all that out, she stood there waiting and I got a faint impression that she expected me to say no, and under different circumstances I might have had to, or at least negotiate for a payment plan, but I still had a wee bit o' student loan money hoarded back (earmarked for folders and printer paper) and so, even though I'm quite sure that's not what that money is for
, of course I said yes.
Well, first I asked, "How long are we talking here," to which she replied, "A couple of hours, until this afternoon." But I was already going to say yes before I asked, although leaving her there, without even getting to say goodbye, was one of the harder things I've done recently. Way harder than, say, a colonoscopy.
"Pick her up after three but before six," Doc Wolf said.
So I went home. Zor had watched Cobie, which she reported mostly consisted of listening to him whine disconsolately. So I spent the afternoon taking down the cx-mas decorations and wearing him out so he wouldn't be so POUNCEY when Kelly got home.
This neighborhood isn't laid out in nice normal blocks, and I have nick-named most of the routes it's possible for me to go; there's the little block
, the double block
and now the triple block
--not very creative, I know. I was ecstatic to be able to make it all the way around the triple block in spite of not having been as active as I should have been since school let out in November. I'd never tried the triple block before; once Tim had to come get me from the little block when my back went into spasm from Cobie's relentless yanking. But with Kelly not along, I could focus on getting Cobie to not yank, and he did pretty well, only almost yanking me off my feet one single time.
There seems to be a rule in this neighborhood that asshole dogs all live in corner lots so you have to walk past them twice as long. Mom suggested that maybe living in corner lots makes good dogs turn into assholes, and that could be so, but I don't think it's true. Our corner neighbor has a nice dog we hardly know is there.
So after the walk, we played Cobie-fetch with the Kong Ballistic boomerang. Cobie-fetch involves a wrasslin match at the end of every fetch, until he arbitrarily decides to "gizzame it," which is my version of "release." Oh, and he only plays fetch in the house. Outdoors he just looks at you crazy, or waits til Kelly fetches and when she's almost brought it back, takes it away from her and runs away with it. Anyway, we played in the house, a hundred pounds of moose galloping up and down the hall, for a half hour or forty minutes, whereupon he suddenly required a nap.
After that I got hooked into a marathon of Property Virgins
, a program I very much enjoy but hardly ever watch. I think I got my fill for a while yesterday though! It was on until seven, and I only took an hour break to collect Kelly.
The vet's office was packed, and it took them a while to get to me. Part of the delay was caused by a dog an elderly gentleman had brought in, a stray. She was beautiful, a border collie and/or Australian Shepherd and/or something mix. I don't know how long he had her before someone suggested her have her scanned. Sure enough she had a chip installed, and there were records on file. Unfortunately her humans didn't answer the phone and the chip company had to leave a message. But they did learn her name is Tina and is an escape artist who has disappeared before. So Tina will be going home soon, if she hasn't already. And seriously, I was willing to wait a few more minutes to collect Kelly for this.
Microchips work. Keep your info updated!
So finally Kelly and I were home, and she was really cold, which I related to because whenever I am physically traumatized I suffer low blood pressure afterwards and that just makes me BRRR. So I cuddled her up beside me on the sofa and wrapped her in my hoodie, whereupon evil Oliver the asscat decided to pretend he didn't know she was in there and walked on her. I knew she didn't feel well when she ignored that insult. After about a half hour she warmed up and stopped shivering, bless her heart, and she was fine for the rest of the night, even reporting for begging duty at dinner time, although perhaps not with her usual enthusiasm. She refused to go outside without a human escort, but she did all her business. She also whined a little at bedtime, wanting to get in the bed with us, but she soon settled down.
Today she seems nearly back to normal. She is stalking the hamsters, whining for tortilla chips, and devoured her peanutbutter-encased drugs (anti-biotic and NSAID) with gusto.
She's supposed to go back before Thursday to get her injury inspected, but I anticipate she will be back to her usual unsinkable self before then, bless her heart. We made good use of the time she was gone, but we really missed her for those couple-five hours she wasn't here.
Forgive a moment of sap on my part: She's my Kelly Doll, and I wuvs her.