October 5, 2007
Seamus got out of his collar again.
He went to the vet yesterday because he’d been limping for a few days, and he wasn’t keen on my touching the foot he was favoring (usually if it’s a goat head or burr, he’ll let me get it out). Turns out he’d managed to rip off the nail on the outermost toe on that foot, which is worse for a dog or cat than it would be for a human because for them, the quick (complete with blood and nerves) is actually inside the nail, rather than just underneath. He must have done it outside, since I imagine we’d have seen blood had it happened inside, but either way, poor puppy.
Anyway, when we got to the vet, Seamus climbed out of the car and approached the first door affably enough. At the inner door, though, he caught the Vet Smell, put on the brakes, backed up hard enough to pull out of his collar, then trotted back to the car. He stood at the car door wagging his tail, looking as if to say “okay, we came, and now we’re going home, right?”
Sadly, no. We got him into the reception area — but then we had to get him into the exam room. After that, we had to get him onto the scale. (Funny how heavy 66 pounds feels when it’s made up largely of muscles that are being convinced by a doggy brain that staying as close to the ground as possible is the current necessity.) But then came the actual vet exam, whereupon there were many doggy kisses bestowed upon Seamus’s brand-new best friend. In the end, he’s on painkillers and antibiotics, and outside the fact that the nail might not grow back, he’s none the worse for wear.