Poor Mama Pajama can't get a break.
Yesterday I had to take her to the wonderful vet. Wonderful in my opinion, anyway.
So the servant takes me in the van, all by myself, and I think we're going someplace fun. Like maybe to chase bunnies or kill squirrels or something. No. Where does she go? Of all the places, the idiot turns into Ol' Poke 'n Stick's House of Horrors. I expressed my extreme disappointment by refusing to get out of the van. "Hello, idiot servant??? Wrong, wrong, wrong. Leave this place immediately!" No. She doesn't get it and acts all happy like I'm at an Outback Steakhouse and in her stupid voice says, "Blah blah blah feel better blah blah blah I'm sorry blah blah blah biscuits." So I get out of the van because I am a good dog. And she did have biscuits.
Mama Pajama's eye has been teary ever since she got sick seven years ago, but I noticed that she was squinting it as though it was sore, and the third eyelid was covering more than normal. I got out my handy dandy nurse's penlight and saw a chunk gouged out from her cornea. Oh good LORD!
In the waiting room, Mama Pajama was very brave. She panted, but she didn't shake, and she wagged when she saw Gail, the office manager.
We go into the House of Horrors. Of course we do. There are a million other places in the world we could be but no, my special servant comes here. That nice Gail who has never been involved in the torture and who often has Kind Words and Very Good Treats bowed down to me and I rewarded her with a wag of my little tail. She is deserving.
It wasn't long until we were called back to our exam room.
Oh let's not. Really. Please?
I was really thinking that she had caught a tail in her eye, or maybe a poke from a branch in the yard and we would get some antibiotic drops and off we'd go. The tech put some numbing drops in both of Mama Pajama's eyes.
Okay, you are a Good Human! Oh my eye suddenly feels wonderful. I love you!
Doc came in.
Hello, Ol' Poke 'n Stick. Hey here's a thought: why don't you POKE and STICK the idiot servant today????
He put his moongoggles on and examined Mama Pajama's eyes. "Have you heard of an indolent ulcer?" he asked. [Warning: there are graphic photos on that site of exactly what Mama Pajama endured yesterday.]
Those goggles make your eyes look HUGE, did you know that? Kindly let go of my sweet little nose. It's a good thing you have such a kind and noble heart so I put up with your foolishness.
Doc scraped away the outer layer of Mama Pajama's cornea with a sterile Q-tip, and then scratched the surface with a needle. I got a little faint. (Yes I'm a Registered Nurse, but that's Mama Pajama.)
You're really lucky that I don't hold a grudge.
He then drew some blood from her jugular vein.
Of course he did. Why do you think his name is OL' POKE 'n STICK!!!
He spun the blood and made drops from her own plasma.
If you're going to put my plasma back in me why didn't we just leave it there in the first place?
So now she gets four different drops twice a day. And an anti-inflammatory pain killer by mouth.
Each torture session is accompanied by some rather tasty cheese. I have trained the servant well. Granted, in a perfect world there would be cheese without the torture, but oh she's a Human after all and you know how they ARE.
The good news is that this morning, Mama Pajama was her happy, wagging self. Her eye didn't seem to be bothering her much at all, and she enjoyed her walk as much as ever. The bad news is that she has to go back in two weeks and have it all done again.
Say what? SAY WHAT???? Human for sale, Cheap! Free to good home. Any home. Oh for goodness sakes.
hug your hounds