So it Valentine’s Day. Or, should I say, Valentine’s Night. And it’s way late. After 11pm. No sweetie in sight — he’s 3000 miles away in California for work, and will be home tomorrow. For that I’m grateful. I’m staying up late for his call from another time zone, as we continue to commiserate about our day, his spent at the tail end of a long conference, and mine spent with the tail end of our Boston Terrier. My Valentine’s Day was spent in the company of a sick dog.
Things got worse as the day went on, enough so that I brought Brady to the Doggy ER… where I shelled out $200 for a check up, tests, and a prescription to bring home. Part of the doggie problem is, umm, that my dog has to pee a lot. I’m mean A LOT. And that’s probably all you wanna know. I’ve been walking him like every 30 minutes since we woke up this morning. I was afraid it was renal failure, but it looks more like an infection. We’ll know more tomorrow when the lab tests return.
So I’ve spent a very unromantic day with a dog that won’t let me out of his sight, and who has been rather anxious and frantic all day. A lot like when you have a baby or a toddler who is sick, only you don’t have to walk them outdoors in the snow 40 times a day to help them feel better.
The vet recommended that the dog eat bland food like chicken and rice while he weathers this illness. So tonight, I cooked Valentine’s supper for the dog.
The things we do for love… of a pooch.
For those of you who wondered if, indeed, I got a love letter from my Hubby, I did. It was the highlight of this day of continuous distraction and dog piddle.