Here he is, recovering
Rocky is convalescing. He’s back home and looks a bit like a cartoon dog recovering from an anvil dropped on his head. Poor thing!
So far he’s peed on two couches, has hobbled out to the back yard only to tuck his tail under and limp back to the glass door with plaintive eyes that seem to say, “Are you kidding me? I’m supposed to pee out there?”
I negotiated the vet hospital bill. Scratch that: I browbeat the poor receptionist who has little to do with setting the terms of the bill when she notified me that they had raised the total $300 past the high-end estimate. Once I unloaded both personal financial woes as well as meticulous analysis of the pre-approved items, she called me back to let me know I was “right” and that they had over-charged me. Ha! Cheaters.
Still, can’t complain now that our sweet dog is home. I slept last night. That helped me recover. Now we’re all about spoiling him with cheese covered pain killers, pee pads, soft blankets and love.
Earlier, Rocky limped into the living room to find me, heroically jumped (lurched, more like) onto the cushions and then laid his chin and the coffee filter head gear surrounding it onto my shoulder. He closed his eyes and sighed a deep doggie sigh. I stroked his back and whispered sweet somethings into his ear. He relaxed against me and dozed. It was the most tender offer of forgiveness I’ve ever received. And during Lent. How appropriate.
I’ll post a teatime photo later.