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Jon and I had planned a romantic evening last night. The kiddo is out of town with Grandma and Grandpa. Our friend Richard was going home early. What could stand in our way? But wait, we hadn’t boarded the dogs. When we got back in from some shopping for some things to help make the evening even more romantic, the first thing we had to do was get the dogs out to the yard. No opposable thumb, can’t do it themselves. I don’t do doggie doors, because they swing both ways. We have raccoons, possums, squirrels, chipmunks, all sorts of wildlife that might be lured into the house through such an easy to use hole. Anyway, we noticed that Jimmy, our oldest dog, had a swollen face. Either he’d been stung or bitten by some small insect or arachnid, or he had an infected tooth. I admit we tried to be selfish and called the vet for an appointment on Sunday, but after I got off the phone, Jon took my hand and put it against Jimmy’s side. The poor dog was trembling, trembling with pain. So we called back and made an appointment for later last night. A 9:30 appointment which meant Jimmy and I got in to a doc at about ten o’clock. First, Jim’s okay, he was bitten or stung. We’ve got meds to give him today. But I got home at after eleven o’clock. Jon stayed with the other three dogs so they could be fed after Jimmy wasn’t there to protest not being fed. Jimmy is very serious about his food.
The evening we had planned needed more time than we had left of the evening. And the worry over how bad our fifteen-year-old dog might be . . . well, it isn’t only children that can put a choke-hold on a romantic mood.
We’ll try again today. Wish us luck.