Right now, because of the steroids and meds, Buster is doing great — he’s almost his old, grouchy, cocker, Alpha Dog self. He barked at a Rottweiler five times his size, trying to boss him around. Today is his birthday, so Maria and I took him two McDonald’s hamburgers which he scarfed down piece by piece, I’m sure without tasting. The hard part will be tomorrow — he’ll get a CAT scan in the a.m., then most probably go into surgery. I know Maria will want to be there for him as much as possible, but this damn this 8-12 inches of snow they’re calling for isn’t going to help us get there.
My cocker spaniel, Buster, collapsed onto the kitchen floor shortly after dinner last night, and Maria and I have been going to and from the Emergency Vet in Carytown ever since. He’s doing better today — ambulatory and hungry, definitely wanting to leave and go home with us — but he has a mass in one of his sinuses that has to be diagnosed via CAT scan on Monday, and then surgically removed.
Needless to say, as the stoplight signifies, I won’t be blogging until he’s relatively safe, and Maria and I aren’t stressed like this.