Oh, the woe.
We’ve had weeks of it, Spluttering and sighing. The big brown eyes have been working hard behind the winter fringe. Walks have had long pauses while the littlest amongst us readies himself to face the sensory overload of some leaves. I haven’t been the only one sleeping long hours and overwhelmed by ennui.
Jake hasn’t been well. He hasn’t been chasing the surfers or the gunmen from the television. He wagged his tail at other dogs. Just this morning, he totally ignored the cat loitering outside the front door. The cat was doing its arched back cartoon catty thing and Jake passed no remarks. I burst out laughing and the cat seemed quite indignant at being blanked so robustly.
The prescribed antibiotics are addressing the phlegm issue, much to our great relief. On hearing of some other symptoms, Junior vet said “I’m not thinking of a tumour yet.” We heard that as “Jake is dying.” Wonderful vet wouldn’t have made that mistake. Is it possible to die of the uugh?
Blood tests (how expensive?) followed. He’s not dying. Diabetes is suspected. Expenses will increase. The Friday afternoon dog snores on.