My poor puppy...

...and my poorer bank account.

Spencer went to the vet today to have his leg examined. He had to have surgery on his right leg a couple of years ago, and now it is his left ACL.

Since Spencer is a bit (meaning very) neurotic, he freaks out when we go to the vet. He whines, he cries, he paces in circles. He growls at the dog who comes up to him (off leash even though the signs says to keep your dog on a leash).

Then, we go into the small room where he tries unsuccessfully to climb into my lap in a very small chair. His vet comes out and has grown a beard since last we visited. He takes a quick look at Spencer and agrees with my at home diagnosis. Yes, he should still have surgery even though he is getting up in age. Yes, it is expensive ($1400). No, we don't have a budgeted billing option. All of these things are said with the voice of Joel Osteen the Giant Church pastor here in Houston.

All I can think is "Oh, holy fucking shit." We totally cannot afford this, but what do you do when you have a pet?

In order to take x-rays of my neurotic dog, sedatives were required. Domitor is evidently the drug of choice. I picked up my pooch an hour and a half later, and he was still drugged up. He wobbled to the car, and I had to lift him up into the back seat. He laid his head in the girls' laps (which is another sign of the apocalypse) and fell asleep. I carried him into the house and placed him gently on his bed. He was drooling and his mouth was hanging open. If I hadn't had the girls with me, I swear I would have sat down and cried. I knew he was going to be okay, but it was too much like he was really sick and weak.

He has since perked up, had a drink and a milk bone, and will soon be back to his fucked-up-can-I-go-out-can-I-come-in-can-I-come-in-can-I-go-out insanity. I guess we'll figure something out about the money.