The past 4 days have been warm around here (6 – 8°c) and rainy. I don’t mind the unseasonable warming, but I do dislike the rain. It sets off my fibromyalgia and doubles the gravity for me. So, I’ve been wishing for the rain to stop. Well, I got my wish this morning when I opened the drapes to see that it was snowing. Great. No rain, but cold again and still precipitating. And the frozen, flakey version of rain needs to be shovelled. This isn’t exactly what I had in mind. Thankfully, the snow didn’t amount to much this morning, because Jack and I were out of the house at 7:30 for an appointment at the vet.
Jack had bloodwork taken back in the spring as part of his senior dog’s annual check-up, and one of his kidney values was a bit elevated. Not by much, but enough that a recheck was warranted. Jack needed to fast for this blood test, so after 8 pm last night, Jack was not allowed any food or treats. You can probably tell by looking at Jack that he carries a few extra pounds. Some of that poundage comes from the bedtime cookie or three that he has at night. Well, last night, no cookies, and it didn’t matter how many times I explained to him the reason why, he kept asking. And asking. And asking. When I finally turned out my light, Jack let loose a small whimper and heaved himself down with a thudding sigh. Yes, Bubba, I know. Now go to sleep, and in the morning you can have a cookie with your breakfast. I didn’t tell him that we’d be going out before breakfast. It seemed best.
So this morning, I wake Jack up at 6:30, and he didn’t want to get up. Good. It allowed me to get ready and have a coffee without any begging. When I was all set to go, I opened the front door and shook Jack’s leash, which brought him stumbling out to the kitchen where he stopped in front of his food bowl and then he looked up at me, asking for food before a walk. “Mommy,” he says, “I can’t go poop if I don’t put any new food in to push it through.” Not going out for poop Bubba, not yet. We’re going to see the nice woman who listens to your heart and gives you liver treats. He’s generally obedient, so he came with me, but he was still looking back at his food bowl as we exited the house. Then, as we were standing on the porch, it occurred to Jack that the nice woman who gives him liver treats also gives him needles in his bum, and he hesitated. I tell him he won’t be getting a needle in the bum, which is true. He’ll be getting the needle in his arm, but I’m a bad parent who just wants to get going so I don’t tell him that. The vet’s office is close by, and it’s all over quickly, and we’re soon on our way home. The first thing Jack did when we got in the door was to go stand in front of his food bowl again, and this time he gave me a hard look that said, “Food. Now.” You betcha, Bubba, but here have a cookie first. He smiled for the first time since supper last night, and I knew all was forgiven. Not forgotten, but forgiven.
The best news is that the vet called about an hour ago to tell me that Jack’s bloodwork has normalized, and all is well. He’s in excellent condition for a nearly 12-year-old puppy. Good Boy, Bubba.