Dogs and Mad Englishmen, Part 2

By Tony Moorby July 19, 2018

(Continuing the shaggy dog story…)

A few months ago Milly, Terry’s Shih Poo, jumped off the back of a sofa while playing with Ally’s Frenchie and slipped a disc. Kevin, the Frenchie, is now full grown and bears more resemblance to a bulldozer than a bulldog.

Millie’s gait went from a walk to a waddle and Terry took her off to the vet, who pronounced that she couldn’t ascertain the problem and that Terry should keep a beady eye on Millie’s progress. The next morning, Millie’s gait went from a dash to a drag and so the vet pronounced that she would need back surgery by a very specialized (read expensive) veterinary surgeon. She had to undergo a laminectomy – the removal of one disc followed by the fusion of the two, newly adjacent discs.

Now, one sees ads on the TV for keyhole surgery, where some poor unfortunate limps into the walk-in doctor’s office and leaves, smiling broadly and skipping back to the car. So I acquaint Millie’s situation similarly – a quick nip and tuck and she’d be ready to resume her life as a nuisance. Not so!

Her back was shaved to resemble the passage of a lawn mower – a strip of naked pink flesh, a foot long and four inches wide, gave her the look of a recently tonsured U.S. Marine. The scar, which I had assumed was going to reflect some “minimally invasive” procedure, would have done justice to the Northern Pacific Railroad. Her anesthetic was such that it took her five days to revive. All the while, the money-meter was ticking away loudly, eventually racking up a bill of over five grand!! I wouldn’t buy a brand new dog for a dollar, but say anything detrimental to a doe-eyed wife and life as a single AARP member wouldn’t look so good. So I roll with it, which is more than the dog can do.

As with all our animal acquisitions, the initial cost is only the tip of an expensive iceberg and just to ensure the saga continues, my oldest daughter’s boyfriend moved in with Bella – a bad-tempered bitch of questionable parentage who abhors me with pesky passion. Kevin, the Frenchie, may have met his Waterloo.

As if that weren’t enough, my youngest daughter and her boyfriend have recently bought a mutt. ‘Charlie’ is not cute. Judging by the size of its paws it’s going to resemble a wooly mammoth and just to bring circularity to the saga it has the same coloring as Rex! More to come, I’m sure…

Last modified on Thursday, 19 July 2018 22:26

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