Wednesday, February 20, 2013

A shaggy dog story that ends in me being on extended bedrest

Why the long face? Read on.
There's something in me that does not love a shaggy dog, and today I learned why.

I ordinarily bay for two reasons: one, to show a pup that I would delight in his or her company; and two, to show a beastly shaggy thing that I would like it to stay away...far away.

Perhaps to the uninitiated, these bays sound alike. Perhaps the shaggy dog I encountered this morning misinterpreted my alarm bay. Perhaps he took it as an invitation to cross the street at a gallop and launch himself at my positively unshaggy body and commit bodily harm to same.

Whatever the inspiration for this ferocious, and I would say, unwarranted, attack, I put up my dukes to no avail. In fact, one of my dukes came into contact with the other canine's canines, necessitating a trip to the vet. Devoted readers of this blog know that I have quite the reputation at VCA Westboro, having escaped from a harness there, exited examination rooms on my own, and put on the brakes altogether at the mere possibility of being examined. My behavior on the scale also has been noted.

Given the expert knowledge of all staff members regarding my Houdini-like abilities and my donkey-like stubborness, I was given the diva treatment and immediately escorted to a private room off the cat entrance. The exam table was lifted so I would not injure my handsome head, the weighing excursion was put off until the end of the visit, and I was duly praised at every turn.

Dr. Dalamangas examined me all over to make sure that I had no other injuries. Then she turned to my left front paw. She likened that part of a paw to the human hand, full of nerves that can cause pain. She observed some swelling and declared I should be on bed rest for 10 days. "No long walks," she said. "No running marathons."

I will leave that last part to my mother. The only question now is: in which bed to rest?