Small Towns, Drugs and a Parrot

Sooo…where did I leave off? Oh right! My dog was sick. Deathly ill. In fact, I was told she had a HUGE MASS in her stomach! And that she had MINUTES to live!

Ok, so maybe it wasn’t that dramatic.

I ended up having to take my girl to a tiny little town 3.5 hours away to have an ultrasound. Did I mention this place was small? Like, even smaller than where I live?

Which makes you wonder: how come they have doggy ultrasounds there and we don’t? While you ponder that, let me tell you that the first thing I saw when I drove in was a 20-something-year-old driving around with a parrot on his shoulder. A live parrot.

I know, right?

And then I went to the mall to kill some time while I was waiting (if you could call a series of differently-named Dollar Stores and an LCBO a ‘mall’) and bumped into a sign that said “Toilets are broken. Sorry for the inconviniance.”

And if you can’t tell what is wrong with that sentence, perhaps you should consider moving there.

Anyhow, the vet where I took her failed to mention two things before I bought her in:

First, that it would take, like, the whole freaking day to get this thing done because they had to sedate her! Ok, technically that is two things, but you get the picture. See the reference to the ‘mall’ above.

Second, they had to shave my dog for the procedure. So now she looks like this:




Kinda looks like mowhawk. Or mange...whatever.




You can imagine my surprise when I picked her up: I suddenly was in charge of a stoned, semi-shaved dog

She was still pretty out of it when I went to get her. She ran sideways at me and headfirst (or side-headfirst) into the receptionists' desk. She was trying to wag her tail when she saw me, but it just kept going in this kinda weird circle. Around and around and around and around.

Then she tried to poop and kinda forgot what she was supposed to be doing...so she just fell down backwards and sat there. Luckily, it was out of the poop range

So, the good news is that the mass they thought was there? The mass I spent a week fretting over, a whole day waiting for and seven hours driving for? Yeah, that mass wasn't there. Or at least, they 'couldn't see it'.

Which means I basically spent a lot of money to find out my dog may just have gas. Excellent! I mean, I could have told you that! At least I have someone to blame it on now...