I’m a touch easy, clearly.
Tiger-dog’s been limping, so we made a Dog-Doctor appointment.
Car-man lifted her into the car for me and off we went.
At the Dog-Doctor’s I lowered her down and set her on those 3 good legs, arranging them so they would hold her up (she falls over if I get it wrong). Tiger-dog patiently waits while I get this just right.
Hop, hop, hop to the little hedge that surrounds the office. It’s a favorite spot for every dog and I try to get there 15 minutes early so Tiger-dog can have a relaxing sniff, as she absently meanders towards the door.
It usually works. But, not today. She’d been plotting in the car ride over.
Tiger-dog waited until I was bored and looking else where, then ploughed through the hedge to the other side.
I call her back.
She laughs at me, tosses her head with triumph and starts weaving the leash through the hedge. Hop, hop, hop.
She is so bad.
I end up carrying in our 50 pound dog. My punishment isn’t done; none of the legs work now, the 3 good ones have suddenly developed extreme limpness and will not hold her up.
I drape her on my lap, instead. Then carry her into the exam room, drape her again. She flops like wet paper. I have to lift her onto the exam table when the Doctor arrives in.
Oh, she can stand (it’s a boy-Doctor and Tiger-dog loves boys).
He examines her carefully. “Everything looks good to me, the joint is where it should be and moving like it should be.”
I grind my teeth and say nothing.
“I’ll give you some medication for an anti inflamatory. I suspect it’s arthritis, and that should reduce the pain. She’ll be walking on it in 3 days, if not, call.” He assured me as he lifted her off the table and set her down on the tile floor.
She had no trouble standing.
She walked out, all four on the floor.
I paid the bill and pocketed the pills.
We walked out.
The closer we got to the car, the lamer she became…
I had to lift her in.
I think I heard her snicker.