A very sad thing happened to me on Tuesday.
Remember the dew claw I ripped off about a month ago? Well, it's been hurting me a lot lately. At first, my family thought that it hurt because it was growing in--like how my mouth hurt when I was teething--but when I started waking up at five o'clock in the morning with an upset stomach from licking the wound, they started thinking differently. So Ma, on Monday, gave my friend Doc Friedman at the vet's office a call and made an appointment for Tuesday morning. She told me that even if the doctor looked at my foot and determined everything was okay, I was due for some shots and Pa wanted to get me chipped just in case I decided to wonder off while visiting my house out east. Needless to say, she didn't ask my opinion on any of the aforementioned subjects.
On Tuesday morning Pa took me to the vet’s office and, after giving me my shots and chipping me (Sister says me getting a chip implanted in my neck reminds her of what happened on The X-Files when Scully was abducted by aliens--needless to say, I am not amused) Doc Friedman took a look at my dew claw. He said it didn’t look too good; the nail was growing in super thick and that was why it was bothering me. He gave Pa two options to choose from: antibiotics or the removal of the nail...permanently. “Antibiotics! Antibiotics!” I screamed, but apparently Pa couldn’t understand me and decided on the second option.
As I did one month ago, I woke up hours later in a room with a lot of barking dogs and meowing cats with a big bandage on my foot. The rest of the night was a haze riddled with moments of lucidity. I remember coming home and seeing Sister (she had just returned from vacationing in Montauk). I remember struggling with her when she tried to remove the bootie protecting my bandage and struggling again against Pa when he tried to put it back on. I remember Ma pulling my tail out from under me. I also remember hearing something about me having to keep the bandage on for seven to ten days. After that, I remember nothing.
It has been over twenty four hours since I came home and I'm still coping with the grogginess associated with the anesthesia (Sister says I should be the poster child for a "Don't Do Drugs" campaign). I'm just so tired--too tired even to chew a small cookie--but my family has been really nice to me. This morning Sister wiped my chin when I forgot to swallow and broke up my cookie so that I could eat it with less effort. She even chased three mourning doves out of my yard when the two of us were outside getting some air. Pa, when he got home from work, hand fed me my dinner and Ma gave me lots and lots of pets.
Hopefully tomorrow I'll be more myself.
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