I like to think I have earned my merit badge, hyper-paranoia. I’m sure our vets appreciate it and I know our bank account just has an automatic “transfer to vet” button.
I was there yesterday with Flocko, he has a “puffy” ear that we’ve been treating for a few weeks. Karen and the vet call it a hematoma, to me, it’s just puffy.
We were there last week with, you guessed it, Timber. That dog is a royal challenge. He misses one itsy bitsy meal and we are just this side of hysteria.
Today, it was Jillian. In all fairness, I waited the 24 hours. When she refused her third meal, I loaded her up and we were off to the vet clinic.
Poor girl, X-rays, blood tests, pokes, prods and an exam that nobody wants, nobody wants to talk about, and nobody ever said they’d volunteer to do again. Good news is that there was nothing remarkable. But most importantly, she ate her dinner.
It always amazes me how as soon as we make a transfer from our bank to the vet clinic, many of the ailments just disappear. Poof. I’m not complaining, I like it that way.