As I drove him to the vet this morning, I kept telling him how sorry I was. But he had these really gnarly wartlike things on his eyelids, and they grew all the way through so that his eyeballs were getting irritated, and they were growing, so time to do the right thing and get them removed. He reluctantly got into the car, actually. Then I had to drag him into the vet's, where he sat quivering and shaking. Well, can you blame him? Now he is home, at least most of him is here. He walked in, made a sideways trip to his bowl, then stood there as if he had forgotten where he was. Mostly, he just lays on the floor, with his tongue out, making burbling noises. We have a bagfull of medications, and he has to wear his new appliance for at least a week so that he doesn't open the incisions, which are sealed with purple sutures. How punk is that! I just hate seeing an animal suffer, but it beats having those awful things on his eyes, I think.
No comments:
Post a Comment