My husband's dog, Tiny Bear, who is actually not tiny at all and looks more like a lion than a bear, rushed into our house last night. He's an outside dog, weighs over 100 pounds, and is a mixture of St. Bernard, Husky, and a tiny bit of wolf. Despite this fearsome pedigree, he is the world's biggest wuss.
I wasn't all that happy to see him charging down the basement stairs, deaf to my yelling. Usually, the only time Tiny makes a beeline for the backdoor is because it is a) thundering or b) too darn hot outside.
Since neither of those conditions were present, I was a bit worried. And of course, so were the cats. They scattered as soon as he appeared (except for the mama cat who knows that this big fluff ball is no threat). Poor Tiny laid on the cement floor and whined. I definitely knew something was up.
When I finally had time to investigate, I discovered the poor pooch had a nice hot spot right on his neck. I, being the intrepid soul that I am, knew exactly what to do since poor Missy suffered the same ailment a few months ago. Thankfully, it was a relatively small spot compared to what I found on Missy, and so we hauled him into the garage to do a bit of "surgery."
Here's the weird thing. I loved doing it. The gross factor didn't bother me at all. I snipped all the hair near the spot while the three kids scratched his belly and hubby held him down. Tiny didn't enjoy the entire process, and when I got to the part where I had to clean the wound, he really didn't like it. But we finally got the deed done and after I called the vet, he told me what I needed to do to take care of it without an expensive trip to the vet's office.
I sometimes wonder if I should have been a veterinarian. While human wounds completely turn my stomach, looking at an animal's wounds don't bother me at all. Perhaps I made the wrong career choice? Nah...
On the Depression...
I want to thank all of you for your support and encouragement on my depression. This is a big reason why I love blogging - all of you! Yesterday, about mid-afternoon, I felt my mood lift. Now I don't know if this is because my hormones finally got on track or if all of your wonderful comments gave me the boost I needed to get out of it, but I feel much, much better.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
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Good news, Melissa. :)
ReplyDeleteJob burn-out and rejections make for a lousy combination. Nothing like a little support from blog pals and some amateur dog-surgery to make things better, eh?
Therese - Ha! I never would have put that combination together as a remedy, but hey, it worked! ;-)
ReplyDeleteGlad to hear you're feeling better, Missy. And way to go with the dog. That was great work. I think I would have freaked out.
ReplyDeleteDiane - It's rather scary how I don't mind taking care of these little medical emergencies. :-)
ReplyDeleteHmm maybe, not very many people can handle animals, you seemed to have it under control
ReplyDeleteChaCha - Sometimes I have it under control. But when my dog got hit by a car and I was 7 months pregnant, I was a mess when I called the vet! Bawling and hysterical!
ReplyDeleteInteresting to think of the road not taken ;) Glad you're feeling better.
ReplyDeleteMel, you sound good :) Poor Tiny!! Lucky you knew what to do. I wonder why he chose that moment to freak? Maybe he knew you needed him :)
ReplyDeleteOne of the great things about the online community is finding people who can support you and shore you up in the bad times, and with whom you celebrate the good times -- people you might never get to meet otherwise.
ReplyDeleteEveryone comes into your life for a reason -- even in cyberspace.