Monday, May 18, 2015

May 18. Day 38. Paw thing

If I lived in the Victorian era, it is most unlikely that I would have been the swooning type prone to the need to resort to smelling salts.
I was never the kid who went down in the school playground no matter how long they had us standing perfectly still in the blazing sun at double arms distance.
Others may get squeamish at the sight of blood. I make sure I turn to get a good look at a blood test.
But not today. Today the room started swimming. I went cold and clammy.  I felt woozy and I knew I was only seconds away from hitting the floor. A nearby seat saved me. It was about 7am. I'd had two hours sleep and hadn't eaten. The room was hot and stuffy and my fur baby was vomiting and about to be admitted.
But none of that really explains what happened - but it did. I love my fur friend like a child and when your child hurts, you hurt. But he is in good hands and I have to trust that. With good luck, good medicine and good vibes he might be home tomorrow afternoon. I miss him dreadfully. I'm pretty sure the feeling is mutual


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