My daughter's doggy got home from the vet hospital this morning after having a tennis-ball-sized tumor removed.
He's really really old, really blind, almost completely deaf, and his name is lucky. I sheet you not, I tried to talk her out of naming him that but she insisted and she won and it's been downhill ever since.
She's coming home from school tonight and her dog will still be here, which is cool.
But this dog has cost me more than all the Porsches I've ever owned.
I almost had him put down a few years ago but I chickened out and wrote the checks.
Did I mention that when she's away at school he's MY dog?
BTW, he is half dachshund and half who knows what, a medium sized dog with really short legs and only about 1 inch if ground clearance. Looks funny.
But they put a cone on him to keep him from getting at the stitches.
Did you ever see an old blind dog trying to maneuver around and through furniture with a cone on his head?
Then he tried to get out his doggy door.
It is possible to laugh and cry at the same time. The poor thing looked funny as hell but I could tell from his expression that he couldn't figure out why we were doing that to him.
