I'll be the one with the bags of poop

We make medical waste.

There's the cuteness, and then there's the day the vet says these two sentences: "Your dog has the joints of a 12 year old." And "Your puppy is teeming with parasites."

Ever since he was a puppy, Gus has had periodic limpy episodes. We first thought it might be growing pains (he was underweight when we got him, and grew from 25 to 70 pounds lightning fast*), but x-rays showed degenerative joint disease (DJD. Or call it arthritis if you want). Another episode recently resulted in another set of x-rays, which showed a hairline fracture in his elbow as well as the joint wear we already knew about.

ANYWAY, he has lately been on an anti-inflammatory/pain med and nutritional supplements, which seemed to be helping. He must have injured himself (unfortunately, probably puppy-related) because he's all limpy in the front again. A friend who used to be a vet tech recommended injections of this magical stuff that restores lubrication to worn joints, and our vet agreed it was a good idea, and that we could do it ourselves.

So twice a week, and then twice a month, and then once a month, brave Mark is injecting this stuff into our dog.

Also, Clover is a good girl, but she's a 16 week-old puppy. This morning she insisted, starting at 4 am, that she really needed to go out (she sleeps in a kennel in our bedroom). She was still making intermittent sad sounds at 5:30, so I took her out. We walked and walked and walked around the dark and then less-dark neighborhood. I shuffled cautiously down icy sidewalks as she trotted ahead. We saw a skunk and lurched in the other direction. We saw the woman with the maniacally barking dog who plants herself in the middle of the sidewalk with a big smile on her face (the WOMAN, not the DOG). We lurched away from them and into the path of the SAME SKUNK, waddling up and down driveways in the morning light. To sum up, I walked her for an hour, and she did not pee.

Later I learned from Mark that Theo was sauntering around our room teasing Clover most of the night, and that's why she started crying to come out of her kennel. It's the cat's fault.

Fear not, dear reader, she did eventually pee.

Must be an angel.

This afternoon we went to Tandem, and since it was almost 50 degrees and sunny(ish), we sat outside. We left poor Mr Limpy home (he's supposed to take it easy. He's not supposed to be wrestling puppies or flinging himself into snowbanks or any of his other favorites). Clover was so tired from the long walk she and Mark had just taken that she wanted to sit quietly on my lap like a dream puppy while I drank a latte.

I won't give you the "teeming with parasites" details. Let's just say it's being taken care of.



*Gus is now 82 pounds and could stand to lose a few of them. Clover is 21 pounds, and might get as big as 50.