Our dog has terrible timing. More than once we’ve missed, or been late to an event, because of a dog related event. Yesterday, I spent a lot of time playing the should-I-or-shouldn’t-I game before calling the vet. In the morning he was fine. So fine, in fact, that he was driving me crazy.
Then, at some point after lunch he started acting odd. He was hiding under the table a bit, and then took to following me around quite closely. This isn’t terribly unusual as we’re constantly swearing at him after nearly killing ourselves on the stairs, but he was close. Really close.
He couldn’t seem to get comfortable, but after a while he just settled down to sleep on the floor. Prior to that he kept turning to his right, so I took that limited information to Google. It turns out that even when Googling pet ailments, all roads lead to death or cancer. The vast majority of the information suggested that we were dealing with a brain tumor. But couldn’t it be possible that he was just tired? Maybe he slept funny and had a pain in his neck? Nope, it’s probably a tumor.
Pet ailments are never cheap. My husband will not ever let me live down the time that our cat had a $500 hairball. We love Charlie, but I wasn’t jumping at the chance to write a check for several hundred dollars, and I really thought I could just pass of responsibility to my husband when he got home. “The dog seems weird! Bye!”
Of course, right as we were gearing up to leave for a birthday party, he started whining. Then he stood up and yelped. And shook his head in the way dogs do, and yelped even louder. So I called our vet and they said that they couldn’t see him today, and would I like the number of the emergency vet. I told them I already have the number, because of course I do.
While I was sitting with the phone in my hand wondering what to do, they called right back and said that if I could come right now, they would squeeze him in. Which presented its own set of problems because we had a birthday party to attend, and I was supposed to drop Bubette off with my husband on the way. And my husband was in a meeting, and would be right up until the point I was supposed to meet him.
Fortunately the one good thing about our vet is that they allow drop offs for things like this. This is especially good because my kids are INSANE in that office. They have their moments elsewhere, but they’re like wild animals the moment we step in that door.
From there we raced to my husband’s work, dropped Bubette, and headed to the birthday party where Bub bounced himself silly.
The diagnosis? Brain tumor. I kid, I kid. He has a double ear infection. He gets two different drops twice a day, a cone of shame, and a $300 vet bill to pay off with his allowance.