I have returned home from my travels abroad.
This broad has been a-traveling, but is home now.
An odd thing happened today. I was happy and pumped up all week, because I was busy and excited about my work and I was able to throw myself completely into the work. But as soon as I started on the Interstate towards home, I remembered that there would be no Dagget to greet me and I felt miserably sad for him all over again. I miss my little buddy. I thought about him and Abby during the week while I was in the hotel, because I am so used to sharing my space with the fur-babies when I am at home.
Anyway... enough of the bummer. I've developed a new talent...I can cry ANY time. All I have to do is think about Dag for just a minute and I want to cry.
OK shut up already.
The good stuff is this: Abby was so exuberantly happy to see me that she just flipped out. Girlfriend lost her damn mind. She got so over-excited that she was making this weird noise that was like a cross between a whine and a growl. And she was scrambling the whole time and trying to press her head under my hand for some petting. I had to calm her down. She was beside herself. That's a greeting.
Tomorrow I have to take her to the vet to get her last medicine for the heartworm treatment. They tell me this is a much milder thing and that they will keep her all day to watch for reactions to the medicine. I wonder how dangerous it is. I'm a little worried, but I would be very shocked if she didn't make it through at this point. She has come through the really deadly part without a complication. This last step will get all the microscopic babies out of her bloodstream. After tomorrow, she's home free.
Of course, this is her 5th brush with death and she's only 1 year old. She's averaging a near death experience approximately every other month. She had a hernia when she was a pup, she was dog-napped one time, she got hit by a truck, she had 2 surgeries to attempt to fix her still-gimpy leg, and she had heart worms. So I guess this last treatment is actually her 6th brush with death. Cause there's a risk. She will probably outlive all of us.
Meanwhile, Daggala was healthy as a horse, just as saucy and vibrant as any dog ever was. Never sick, never a brush with death, until he suddenly got sick and died at the age of 3.
See kids, the point of my story is that life doesn't make any damn sense, you can't count on anything, and there's no use in hoping for things to ever be good.
Because when you harbor hope, that smarmy bastard, then your puppy dies. That's right folks. The best damn puppy you ever met and the light of your empty and miserable existance just dies. All because you dared to hope.
Perhaps I am PMSing...