Sixty-something woman shares ruminations as she plys the latter third of her life with the caveat that age entitles her to be absolutely outrageous whenever possible.
"We Three"
Sunday, February 06, 2011
We interrupt your regular programming for the following bulletin...
We are back from the vet. Yes, the very expensive emergency vet. They were very thorough, and it is now clear that this is not a acute problem, like a blocked intestine. More likely it is an arthritic joint problem, but xrays and tests will have to be done. Tomorrow. Meanwhile, we have a little pain pill to give him, so he will not erupt in screaming pain any more. That's good. Nothing worse than watching this innocent little guy suffer. Let's be honest. Boo is no spring chicken anymore. And that's going to mean little things will go haywire, just like me, actually. Nothing major, hopefully. I expect him to live another 5 or 6 years, in fine health. Please.
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1 comment:
oh so sorry for your little dog. Hope it turns out ok. I just lost my poor sick Raven over a week ago. But the puggies are well.
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