It’s been an interesting few weeks with Angel, the dog whom I’ve been looking after, or attempting to look after, for August.
We’ve had all kinds of adventure, but not just the roaming-around-the-countryside-tongue-lolling kind. Nope, that’s not all, unfortunately.
Angel has given me a good dose of what having a dog would be like while working full-time, and I can honestly say it’s a commitment I’m not ready for at this point in my life.
The first adventure she had involved a two-day overnight stay elsewhere that had me putting up posters all over town in a panic. You may have also seen her picture in the paper.
I don’t think she can read, but she did show up shortly after they went up, arriving like the Queen of Sheba straight from the spa. Prancing across the lawn at 9:30 at night, Angel arrived home smelling like flowers rather than her usual eau-de-somedeadthing, fur brushed and gleaming in the moonlight. A mystery.
The next disappearance was shorter but more dramatic. The neighbour that she visits regularly walked her back, with her hardly able to hobble home at all.
Fortunately, the vet was in the neighbourhood for a social call that evening, so I crashed the party and stole her away so she could tell me why Angel felt so hellish.
A dark and stormy low-visibility drive into town and back later, the dog got a painkiller and I got a few hours of sleep.
The next day, with the help of trusty friend and local bike mechanic Sabina, Angel was loaded into the back of a car and on her way to the vet.
Our talented local veterinarian Laurie Page was able to determine the source of Angel’s immobility, a horrible bladder infection, and she’s been on the mend ever since.
Now, it’s all a matter of keeping her on her meds until her humans get back home.