It's a Dogs Life
But with the advent of the new baby, there is a new pecking order. And the dog lost. In the early days, she lost big. I had little patience left. G took the lions share, Lew got what was left, and sorry dog, I have nothing for you. I guarantee there were days I forgot to feed her.
And walks? I'm sorry but she pulls (one of the major areas I have failed - she will heal but I have to say heal every 30 seconds and as soon as I say "good dog" she moves ahead of me. Caesar would be horrified) and I have to focus on G. I try to take her with us, but she wants to sniff and take her time or run and chase rabbits and I can't do that and watch G and not worry about her getting tangled in the stroller.
Now that he's older it's even harder because he wants to hold the leash and have you ever seen a 19lb short person try and walk a 40lb dog? It's pretty cute.
But I have noticed that my lack of patience for my dog is offending the "my dog is my child" community. And to many in that community I've committed a cardinal sin as big as wrapping a puppy in a bow as a Christmas present for a two year old; just because the baby came doesn't mean I should love my dog less.
And I don't, but there is perspective now. People come first.
Which brings me to today. Mavvy has a swollen toe. We noticed it on Saturday because she was limping. I checked it out, no obvious fracture, no obvious pad damage, but a swollen toe around the nail. I have no idea what would cause this (from my year at the vet and subsequent exposure based on Megs work) and I don't remember seeing a case like it, but to my mind it looked like a cut or ingrown nail that had gotten infected and gotten worse by her constant licking. So I wrapped it up and said it'd keep till Monday. She was not off food or water, which is a cardinal indicator in all beings if something is really up. So it'd keep.
So I called the vet on Monday, the only appointment was 4:40. No good. We were trying to go to the World Series. What have have you got Tuesday morning?
The judgement through the phone was palpable (evidenced by a very pregnant pause). First, I didn't take her to an emergency clinic over the weekend (note: she would have to have gotten hit by a car for me to take her there. Seriously.). And now I was going to make her wait another day?! DOG ABUSE!!
She was fiiiiine. The foot was wrapped, the swelling actually seemed to be receding with her licking it less. And guys ... it's the World Series! And if it's a tumor ... a day ain't gonna do nothing.
I took her in today and it just irritates me when I go in and they say exactly what I think is going on, but then want to do additional tests. I need to grow a back bone and just say no. She didn't need an x-ray. But I paid for one. I just wanted the antibiotics. But I didn't argue because I don't want to seem all know-it-ally and I'm not a vet, despite all I (think I) know.
But my point on this long winded diatribe ... it never bothered me to spend money on my dog prior to G. But now one of my least favorite chores is buying dog food, behind going to the post office and having to walk into the laundrymat. And now that I'm paying co-pays what feels like once a month and buying $3 gallons of milk EVERY. FOUR. DAYS. I am soooo not inclined to pay a ton for the dog.
And this has gotten me kicked out of the "my dogs are my babies" club. Mavvy is my dog. She was the first addition to our family. I saved her, and I worked hard to keep her healthy that first month. And through two years of trying she was comfort. But she is a dog. A very, very good dog; but a dog. And now that I have to have dedicated income for the short person, I'm just not loving the bill I paid this morning.
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