Not a brave girl
I’m not a brave girl. Oh, I might look as though I am but when it comes down to scary things, you can count me out. Yesterday I had to deal with a scary thing. I had to go to the vet. It’s bad enough when Mum comes in with me to hold my paw, but having to be a big girl and go in on my own is not easy. I did wonder if I should take Aristotle’s approach of trying to bark the place down, but that’s not my style. I’m more a run the other way sort of dog. It didn’t work. I had to go in. I tried turning round to rush back to Mum several times but vets are strong people! I guess they have to be.
Why was I at the vet?
When we went for a walk on Monday I said I really didn’t feel up to it. It would be a bit like me saying I didn’t want to eat in other circumstances. I was holding my back right leg very stiffly and Mum said I looked so miserable. It’s happened before but then I seem to be all right again. Mum said this time she wanted to get it checked. The vet moved my joints in all directions and I didn’t say ‘ouch’ once. Apparently it’s not helpful if I don’t tell the vet what is hurting, but that’s the kind of dogs we are. I have to take some anti-inflammatories and have lead walks only for the next fortnight to see how I go. If there is no improvement I’ll need an xray.
Lumps and bumps
I asked the vet to check a couple of lumps while I was there, but she said they are nothing to worry about. If one of them gets bigger I might need it removed but it’s ok for now.
My meds seem to be making me a bit sleepy, so I’m quiet and glum, but Mum is looking after me. I think I’ll perk up when Shadow and Ari come home from kennels later.
Love
Wilma