Mom was on the phone with the vet yesterday. I could tell because I heard my name and as a dog, I get these intuitive flashes about what’s really going on. And it’s not good news. Next week I am supposed to go get my teeth cleaned.
“If your teeth go bad you could get a kidney infection or worse,” my mom said, frowning at me. “And Malari thinks you’ll need anesthesia. And maybe blood tests.”
Anesthesia? No problem. That’s like a big nap, right? But then my mom said, “So Gracie can’t eat or drink after 10 PM? No water? No food?”
Uh oh. Now I’m paying attention.
“Well, I will have to put her in her crate the night before so she won’t have a chance to get into the cat food. I’ll clean up all the crumbs.”
Oh no. My tummy will be making growling noises.
“And Gracie’s dog sitter will come pick her up.” Now finally we get some good news. I adore my Aunt Sara. I’ll have to miss my trip to Magnuson but at least I’ll get to say hello. “Gracie won’t be in shape to go on the bus and some of those cab drivers are a little snippy about dogs,” my mom said. “And she’ll feel better in a familiar car.”
I’ll feel a LOT better when it’s all over and I am back home in front of my bowl of crunchies. I should be grateful I have an owner who gives me vet care but somehow…