I have a mutt with an expensive butt.
I don't know how it happened. At the end of September I rescued a dog from a shelter and by the end of January I've spent over a thousand dollars on her already. What is wrong here? Huston, we have idiot lift off and Captain Alyson is at the helm.
In the short span of four months we transformed a socially backwards and scared out of her wits puppy into a semi-obedient diva who stalks my house like she owns it. Britt is not a pretty dog and her pedigree is a blend of every kind of dog you can think off. This mix created an odd jumble of sweetness and PMS. The worst side effect of her questionable origins is over-active anal glands. Yum.
So, like any good doggie owner would do, I took her to the vet. According to the doc, the act of squirting skunk-like fluids on me is not vital to the dogs health and can be removed. Thank heavens. I got a quote and made a date.
As I waited, the anticipation of extracting this vile section of my dog was a killer. I thought the end of January would never come. Hell, I lost sleep over it. The day came, I passed her off with a scratch behind the ear and went home. I admit, I am a weird pet owner and I fret over my animals like I fret over my boys. I called enough times to get on the wrong side of the receptionist's good graces. Finally she was done and fit enough to come home.
I usually enjoy going to the vet. They are nice folks. However, the doc dropped a few words that made me sweat. Cankered. Swollen. Took an hour longer than planned. Massively infected. All of those words are bad. Why? Because it means CHA CHING! That's why. I got an account summary and what I read made me cough up a little bile.
Four months, numerous visits, six shots, one blood work lab and a butt surgery later and suddenly I'm out a cool grand.
Congratulations to me. I own an expensive dog butt.
Showing posts with label Britton the wonder dog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Britton the wonder dog. Show all posts
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Monday, December 5, 2011
The Mobile GYM Membership
Today as I stood at the door with my running shoes on and the dog on a leash. With the wind blowing the trees and particles of ice around I had a moment to think, "what the hell am I doing!" Other such phrases were passing through my brain along the lines of crazy, insane and out of my freaking mind.
This morning was frosty. Wind here in the central states is lazy. Like a tornado, why bother to go around when you can shoot straight through a person? Add a biting chill and the possibility of freezing rain and ice and you have my morning. Again, I ask myself... what the hell am I doing???
For the cost of upkeep on my dog, I could get a pretty decent membership at the local GYM and do my running in a centrally heated building where everything smells of sweat and feet. I could catch up on morning news and laugh throatily with Al Roker, Matt Lauer and the morning crew on TV. I could be showered and out the door by the time my kids get out of bed and it would be lovely, but I don't do it.
Instead, I pile on layers, feed the dog and talk to myself like a crazy person. I say lame stuff like... "you can do this, you are the bomb. It's just lungs. Who needs lungs? After a few mornings of freezing air, lungs will be an afterthought." I know it sounds really stupid and it never works. The other side of my brain tells the talking side to shut up and go back to bed already where it is warm.
And yet I ran. The only excuse I can see working in my defense here is that there is a distinct possibility that the cold numbed my better judgement and killed brain cells. The other reason is Britt. I can't deny her the run. She lives for it, no matter what the weather is out and I won't squash that out of her. She is my GYM membership, paid in flea and tick meds, dog food, vet check-ups and treats.
I hope I thaw out today in time to thank her for it.
Check it out! I'm not the only crazy one. Though, I'd never strip off to run, not even if I was paid.
This morning was frosty. Wind here in the central states is lazy. Like a tornado, why bother to go around when you can shoot straight through a person? Add a biting chill and the possibility of freezing rain and ice and you have my morning. Again, I ask myself... what the hell am I doing???
For the cost of upkeep on my dog, I could get a pretty decent membership at the local GYM and do my running in a centrally heated building where everything smells of sweat and feet. I could catch up on morning news and laugh throatily with Al Roker, Matt Lauer and the morning crew on TV. I could be showered and out the door by the time my kids get out of bed and it would be lovely, but I don't do it.
Instead, I pile on layers, feed the dog and talk to myself like a crazy person. I say lame stuff like... "you can do this, you are the bomb. It's just lungs. Who needs lungs? After a few mornings of freezing air, lungs will be an afterthought." I know it sounds really stupid and it never works. The other side of my brain tells the talking side to shut up and go back to bed already where it is warm.
And yet I ran. The only excuse I can see working in my defense here is that there is a distinct possibility that the cold numbed my better judgement and killed brain cells. The other reason is Britt. I can't deny her the run. She lives for it, no matter what the weather is out and I won't squash that out of her. She is my GYM membership, paid in flea and tick meds, dog food, vet check-ups and treats.
I hope I thaw out today in time to thank her for it.
Check it out! I'm not the only crazy one. Though, I'd never strip off to run, not even if I was paid.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Britt to the Rescue
I have a dumb spot for dogs. Scratch that. I have a dumb spot for rescue dogs. Folks can have their pure bred champions that cost them an arm and a leg and I could care less. Get me into an animal shelter and I might come home with twenty dogs.
Today, I finally received all of Britt's adoption paperwork in the mail and reading it was difficult. When they found Britt she was an emaciated 20 pounds and covered in mange. They didn't know what color to mark her as because she had no hair and more fleas than was necessary. The shelter told me she couldn't bark, eat, drink or walk because she was so weak. This is why I own only rescue dogs.
Britt is now a healthy 50 pounds with a glossy black and white coat. She is happy, vivacious and the sweetest pup I've ever met. I love how smart she is and how she makes people love her and how she doesn't just wag her tail, she wags her whole body. Sure she does really dumb stuff like tear apart my yard and roll in dead armadillo guts, but she's worth it. As I live and breathe she will never go hungry, she will never be abused and she will always have a home to shed in (because she sheds more than a normal dog should, quite frankly).
Today, I officially own the most awesome dog in the world.
Today, I finally received all of Britt's adoption paperwork in the mail and reading it was difficult. When they found Britt she was an emaciated 20 pounds and covered in mange. They didn't know what color to mark her as because she had no hair and more fleas than was necessary. The shelter told me she couldn't bark, eat, drink or walk because she was so weak. This is why I own only rescue dogs.
Britt is now a healthy 50 pounds with a glossy black and white coat. She is happy, vivacious and the sweetest pup I've ever met. I love how smart she is and how she makes people love her and how she doesn't just wag her tail, she wags her whole body. Sure she does really dumb stuff like tear apart my yard and roll in dead armadillo guts, but she's worth it. As I live and breathe she will never go hungry, she will never be abused and she will always have a home to shed in (because she sheds more than a normal dog should, quite frankly).
Today, I officially own the most awesome dog in the world.
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