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Had to take Supreme Master General Star Dog to the vet today to get checked out. She's been looking slightly down-and-out, a little less excited to be alive than she used to be- and she yacked some rawhide chews in such an upsettingly LOUD manner that I damn near panicked. I was upstairs, home alone, and I heard an old man screaming through his trachea-tube at full wheeze before he just yelled "the hell with it!" to himself, ripped his throat out and proceeded to blow through his wrinkly voice box, now in his hands, until he blew all the chordal fibers out, at which point he belched a belch that started so deep it couldn't escape and ended up blowing a hole in his esophagus. and it got all over the floor. so I sprinted downstairs and found Mrs. Pukey sitting, almost proudly, behind a fairly massive puddle of spewdom. Stinky. I made an appointment the next day. Dr. Divinie's office is near my house. He's a cool, smart guy. When my first girlfriend was studying veterinary medicine at Tufts, she had to do some observation time in vet clinics, and one of them was Dr. Divinie's office. I tagged along. It was awesome. Someone brought this huge Black Lab in because he had a growth on his back. Dr. Divinie made us feel it. Then he knocked the dog out with gas, and cut the thing out. So there it was, this growth, kind of purpley, about the size of a big marble, sitting on this steel tray. We all just kind of looked at it. "Let's cut it open and see what's inside" Dr. Divinie said. "Yes." I said. I looked over at the girlfriend and noticed she was pale and wide-eyed. "Why don't you go have some candy" the Dr. told my chick, "it will make you feel better. There's some out in the lounge". She left. We cut. It was pure, pristine whiteness on the inside. Semi-solid. Like a gel. Totally rad. 'Well that's good. It's not cancer" the doc said. I nodded. It was that same office I took Mrs. Pukey to today, but Dr. Divinie wasn't there. Instead the doctor was some big, fat woman. She was frightening and loud and when she motioned to take my dog's leash, I insisted that I remain in control of it. Dog looked assured. I lifted her up on the scale. 46 whopping pounds of flesh-tearing terror. That's my dog. They anally probed her to get a temperature. 102 degrees- perfect. Fat lady examined all teeth and was pleased. Strong and white and healthy. Fur good. Ears good. Eyes- a bit of cataract, but for an 11 year old dog, they were good. They drew blood and tested for heartworm- negatory. They're sending the blood to a lab for tests and I should get a report on Monday. And that was it. $190!!! I didn't know these sorts of visits were so expensive. I mean, it's worth it, but that really surprised me. Maybe I should look into pet insurance. Dog came home. And now she's drooling on my toes. I like it when things are normal around here.
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