I'm not amused
It seems that I've managed to hurt myself again, this time my left leg. Once again, Bleeder thinks it's a "tweak" and I just need to stop zooming around like a scalded weasel (I can't even imagine what humans did in the old days to come up with that horrific visual, I'm only assuming it was some form of ghastly entertainment before the interwebs), stop falling into the holes I've dug, and the take it easy for a bit... there's sound and sane advice for a husky.
Toast always jumps to the worst case scenario (bless him) and insisted we go to the vet... and since I've filed my nails to razor sharp points, Bleeder agreed... but if we're going to the vet, I may as well make it worth their while.
So, on Friday, Bleeder cleans out all of the tasty leftovers that have been pushed into the back of the fridge to grow into amazing science experiments and she happened to find some taco meat that hadn't grown hair, and dumped it into the trash bucket. Well, the trash bucket is placed right next to the fridge because Bleeder is lazy and doesn't like walking 2 feet to the maximum security trash container, so while she was head deep into the fridge reaching for what we thought was a celery stalk gone wild... I sampled the taco meat.
It was delicious. Spicy, yet cloying, danced on my palette like a newborn fawn taking its first steps. I got greedy and went for more as Bleeder crawled out of the fridge and I was caught red handed... pawed... something. I managed two nice bites of it before I was summarily banished from the kitchen.
Little did I know that my tasty snack would have some explosive consequences later on. I was mopey throughout the day, but still ate lunch and dinner, so around bedtime when it was time for my nightly constitutional, a volcano of taco meat spewed forth from my fluffy butt. There was collateral damage to my butt fluff that required a warm, wet washcloth and Bleeder having to scrub my po-po fluffs. Humiliating.
Was the snack worth it? It was tasty, but was it firehose diarrhea, butt scrub tasty? Yep. I'd do it again.
So Saturday I was totally back to normal and frisky. I even had some solid non-butt scrubbing required poops. It was a beautiful morning, so we all played and played in the back yard, and then Toast took a shower and put on some pants. I knew something was up because Bleeder also put some pants on, and then my harness went on and WOOT we're going out!
Even though I was pretty tired from all of our yard frolicking, I still had duties to perform.
|Oh come on, pass this slow stupid truck|
It was the vet appointment. Sigh. I was hoping we'd get to go somewhere more... not the vet.
While we waited to be seen, the very nice technician came in and took notes and then took me into the back and stole my nails. He also stole my blood for some kind of DNA test (I'll fill everyone in on that whole thing later on)
Then the nice doctor came in and turns out he's not a nice doctor because he shined a light in my eyes (um, it's my leg, doc), and then he shined a light in my ears (gotta go a little lower there doc, it's the leg), and then he proceeded to yank, twist, squeeze, bend, inspect, and torture my already injured left leg. He had the gall to do it to the right to "compare". Then he pronounced that nothing was crunchy (there's a relief) everything moved fine, nothing seemed broken, torn, goofy, wacky, or expensive, and was probably a muscle thing. I'm not supposed to do normal husky things (everyone laughed), see how it goes and if it gets worse, then I get some pills.
Afterwards we got to walk along a lovely forest area full of interesting sniffs and smells and I deposited my offering to the forest woodland creatures (I hope they like residual taco meat), and then we went home.
I slept all day.