Poster’s Child
Hi, it’s me, Chappy.
Mom said that I should write to let everyone know that I’m okay, because everyone was so nice about saying they hoped that I was. Which, you know, is pretty nice of you.
The thing is, when Mom came home from work, I was feeling fine. I ran to greet her at the door, like I always do, and wagged my tail–again, like always–and she was almost disappointed. She said something about, “Dogs and car engines–they never make the noise when you bring them to the professional,” whcih frankly, didn’t make any sense to me.
She and Grandma actually took me out for a very short walk, which I was thrilled about! I spun around on the leash and ran out the door (Mom pulled me back inside and made me wait like I’m “supposed to”). I sniffed, I wagged my tail. It was great. But then we came back home, with Mom grumbling–this was weird–because I didn’t stop to, well, you know, on the street, because she needed a sample of it. (Why, I don’t know, since it’s something she and Gram usually get rid of as quickly as possible.)
Anyway, after we got back to the house, we all got into the car and went . . . to the vet. Ugh. I got weighed on the big scale–I way . . . um . . . weigh (weird human spelling!) 37 and a half pounds, but Mom says it should be more like 35, and now I’m worried she’s going to stop feeding me. The doctor shone a light in my eyes–I think he did it so I couldn’t see to jump off that scary, silver table. He listened to my heart and pressed really hard on my back, and then poked sharp things into my paws–once to pull out some of my blood (ew!) and once to give me a shot which is making my skin smell funny and has made me really tired.
Mom said she’s really glad that I’m feeling better, and that my new best friend (Harry the Heating Pad) must be magic, but that she still wishes I’d felt sore enough to let the doctor know where it hurt.
I really don’t think I’ll ever understand people.
I’m worried about this other dog I saw there, too. Apparently he swallowed poison from an exterminerminator (did I spell that right?) and his Person waited four hours to bring him to the vet, because it wasn’t convenient for him to come any sooner. Four hours?? I hope he’ll be okay. That’s like 28 hours to a dog.
Now, I’m really tired from the walk and the vet and that pointy shot thing. And I really need to go lie down.
My back, you know.
Added by Mom, er, Deb: Actually, he WAS just fine, but right now? Panting, and can’t get comfortable. He’s pacing and fidgety, though clearly tired. I hope it’s just that maybe he did a little too much all at once on that sore back when he was feeling better, and NOT that he’s having some kind of reaction to that shot. Really, I hate vaccinations.
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Tannenbaum.
House Calls
Hey Chappy, really glad to know that you are alright. I hope the weather would change for the better so that your mom can take you out for some nice exercise every day. Take care.
Oh, I hope he’s OK, Deb! I’m sending love here from Indiana!!
Hope Chappy feels better soon!
Aww, gee, Chappy! Don’t YOU do it, too. It’s not supposed to be like the new fad on the playground for all the dogs to get sick ya know. It’s NOT COOL. Cut it OUT!!!!!!
Cute post. But worrying about pets is such a horrible feeling. I hope he’s back to normal soon.
It would be so much easier if they could tell us how they were feeling. Java sends her best to Chappy.
Hey Chappy, I hope you’re okay by morning. Sometimes those shots can really get you down. I’ll be thinking of you and sending you good thoughts (if I can stay awake, I like to sleep). I’ll have my Mom check the blog first thing in the morning to see how you’re doing.
Your Georgia Friend,
Libby in GA
Chappy, Deb, thinking of you both and I hope Chappy is feeling better in the morning!
Boris and Ging and Claw all send their best good fuzzy vibes up your way! Poor Chappy!
Chappy, I’m glad you were feeling better for most of the day. Maybe you were just tired and fidgety in the evening from the shot.
Hey Chappy! I’m sorry you had to go that vet thing. But really your mommy just wants to make sure you’re ok and that you’ll be able to wag and frolic forever and ever.
Max says hi and he can’t wait to play with you if you’re feeling better that is. He’s pestering me to let him write to you himself but I don’t want you to get too worked up. Max is a little hyper you know.
Love and scritches from your favorite human in MD. MWAH!