Last weekend I spent some time in Texas at a seminar, all was going well until I got the phone call that Henrietta, wonder Poodle, wasn't acting her normal self (normal, in her case being quite relative).
She usually has a bit of a freak out when I am gone for a few days but she will normally bug people for more love, not less, so when she was hiding under the bed and not doing her happy dance, punctuated with shrill barking, it was determined something was wrong.
That something ended up being... how shall I put it delicately... let's just say a problem in her hind quarters and she had an infection that needed to be drained. Once she was fixed up at the vet's she was sent home but all was still not well. She came home with a cone on her head.
I may have mentioned here in the past that she has me wrapped around her little paw, well, it's worse now. She can't see with the cone and every time she walks, it thumps the floor and catches on the carpet and snaps her tiny little head back. I have made it my mission to carry her to and fro so she doesn't have that problem. Oh, rest assured that once she is well and the cone is off on Saturday, she will regain the use of her legs to carry her about (I keep trying to tell myself that's true).
It's getting to the point, though that I am not sure who it's worse for -- her or me. She is a nervous mess, which is making me a nervous mess we should both be swilling back relaxing beverages but have been holding off.
For now, though I am even more of a slave to her whims, but I am okay with that.
