Right before I went on vacation to Indiana I noticed that the dog had these sores on his belly that were sort of scabby. Not knowing anything about dogs I turned to my dog expert friend Kelly, who in my opinion knows all things dogs being that she owned and was responsible for a dog, to take a look at his belly. She did so and declared they appeared to be healing. Not trusting this advice, because really how long ago has it been since she owned and was responsible for a dog, I told Tom he should take the dog to the vet. Tom, being the responsible dog owner that he is, responsed that he was not going to do that because he had just taken him to the vet the week before. He had done this because Elliot, after running around the pool deck for eight hours chasing any waterdrops that splashed his way, had cut his paw and was limping. The vet looked it over and declared it healing and recommended putting on neosporin, which Elliot promptly licked off. Bottom line was since he had just been to the vet he wasn't going again, a logic I have yet to follow and am thankful I'm the one responsible for the children.
I left on vacation and when I returned Elliot still had his scabby sores. He still has them today and they make me crazy, but I refuse to take him to the vet because then I would have to explain how long the dog has had these scabby sores and have to admit that we are unresponsible pet owners and have let our dog suffer with scabby sore disease for this long without treatment. A logic I know myself is messed up and rest assure if this were my child he would have already had been to the doctor. Last night the dog ran from chair to chair begging for food while we consumed dinner and he had no trouble doing the hokey pokey with Darcy or playing in the hose with Madison. However, when Tom got home the dog limbed outside to greet him as if his entire left leg were broken in twenty different places. Tom, master dog owner that he is, proceeded to accuse those of us in the house of doing something to his baby. Then he got on the phone and tried to call the vet...at 8:00 AT NIGHT. Of course the vet had already gone home for the day. Elliot spent the rest of the evening limbing if he were up, but mostly lying around watching us all with sad, puppy, dog eyes.
After my shower I worried about blow drying my hair, an activity that excites the dog as soon as he hears the cord being pulled out. He likes to bark and jumps up constantly to try to attack the dryer. It makes blow drying my hair such a treat. But last night I worried how he would respond, but as soon as I pulled out the cord he came tearing around the corner ready to fight, no limp to be seen. As soon as I was finished he limped out of the bedroom back to Tom. Tom made a vet appointment for this evening and since he said it would be impossible for him to take him and I refused to take him Kelly said she would take him.
This morning Elliot popped right out of bed, no limping, and proceeded to have his morning walk around the neighborhood. He did not limp the entire day. Tom then informed me he would take the dog to the vet so I alerted Kelly. Then circumstances occurred that had me going to the vet, along with the girls, to take the dog to meet Tom. Of course, we were on time and Tom wasn't so we took the dog in for his appointment. Eventually Tom appeared and so all four of us, Elliot, the nurse, and the vet were stuffed in this little examination room. I felt it showed we loved our animal. Madison thought it showed we were nuts.
Elliot did not limp for the vet and she couldn't find anything to indicate a problem. The scabby sores were infected, possibly from some allergy, and so he is now on an antibiotic and an antihistomine. We all left the office jolly and full of happy dog ownership, less $100 for the appointment. As soon as we got home Elliot got out of the car and limped inside the house where he plopped down on the floor, sighed, and went to sleep.
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