Except when that puppy is sick. And stoned.
Something happened to our dear Luther today. When we left for breakfast, he was A-okay. When we came back, he had a bump on his side and couldn’t lie down or walk. We whisked him off to the emergency clinic and waited and waited and waited.
Because I am me, I couldn’t bear his trembling and so lay on the floor next to him to keep him warm, and so he’d have me to lean against. It took hours, which was both reassuring and terrifying. Twice, I had McIrish get a tech because I thought he was getting worse.
But he did get seen, and they gave him some IV pain medication, which has made my sweet, friendly puppy utterly wasted. He is akin to a frat boy pre-puking…that far-away stare, those sleepy eyes, the wobble to his legs, the drooling.
His diagnosis isn’t quite clear—maybe a bug bite of some kind, or a puncture wound. He’s on antibiotics and some doggy anti-inflammatories and is currently drooling into the carpet at my feet, sound asleep.
Hopefully, Luther will be all better in a day or two. I know you will be keeping good thoughts for him, my friends, and for that, I’m very grateful.