I adopted a truly spastic dog, which means we took our first
“non-check-up” trip to the vet yesterday. Tiny Dog started limping a little on
Friday evening and then it grew worse over the weekend. It did not, however,
slow her down enough to prevent her from batdogging Lil Dog.
I figured it was just a pulled muscle or something of that nature,
but wanted to be sure. So off to the vet we went. Tiny’s vet is wonderful. The
entire staff at VCA Airline Animal Hospital is wonderful. Tiny loves on
everyone there, eats delicious treats, and gets to meet new dogs. She loves the
vet. Maybe this is why she forgot she was injured.
Sure enough, the vet started loving on her and that limp she
acquired over the weekend vanished. The vet gently manhandled the leg in question
and not a single yelp, whine, or wiggle appeared.
There is only one explanation for the limp, my dog thought
it would give her street cred in her pursuit of becoming a gangsta. And after she
smashed a potted plant this morning, Office Space style, she earned herself the
new street name, T-Dog.
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