Dogtown

I just saw "Julie and Julia" and, like the movie star who was discovered by a Hollywood agent at the local soda fountain, it is true you can get a book and a movie deal from your blog about cooking a recipe a day from Julia Child's Mastering The Art of French Cooking. Like I'm supposed to be impressed with this fairy tale ending...it's the second book this woman will have to master that will be a killer. One with an actual story that doesn't involve her angst about turning 30 and having her perfect flan fall on the floor of her kitchen. Boo hoo.

Me, I'm not so lucky. I've had to do it the hard way. The long, winding, rutted and multiple blind alley, kick-in-the teeth way. But c'est la vie. Long story, water under the bridge and all that. At least as far as the publishing part goes. What happens to it after it hits the shelves will no doubt be as much up to me as the latter part (insert 'slog' here). Whatever I have, I got. No fairy godmother here.

Speaking of which, I always kick myself later when I ignore my instincts. Take the other day, when I took our six pound Shorkie, Dale, to the vet for shots. He'd been throwing up, which wasn't unexpected for a puppy/vacumn cleaner. He sees, eat eats. Could be a dead fly, a feather, shoelace, pillow stuffing, and anything that smells remotely like food. I've caught him with all manner of items, pulled from the jaws of death, in a manner of speaking. And anyone with a dog knows the saying, 'garbage in, garbage out'. Throwing up is to a dog what colon cleansing at the local yoga retreat for a careful vegetarian.

While at the clinic, I mentioned to the vet (name deleted) I was worried he'd thrown up a few times and after a couple of perfunctory questions he was rushed off to x-ray. "But wait, " I called after them, "he seems fine!"

I had visions of towels or socks or christmas lights (common items found in the innards of dogs) showing up, but when she came back I couldn't quite understand what she was pointing to on the film.

"Suspicious," she said, gazing at it pensively.

All I could see was a very empty set of bowels, albiet a little gassy.

"That's the problem," she replied, when I peered at it. "Gas could mean a blockage. She practically whispered the word.

"But he seems fine!"

The vet looked at me like I was about to yank my child from a life-sustaining ventilator. She clicked her pen (and her tongue). "I'll have my nurse come in with some treatment options."

Dale was still in the clinical anteroom somewhere, no doubt on the verge of a major catastrophe, when the nurse came in with the paperwork. I saw the numbers and immediately started to negotiate. Overnight stay with an IV for $400.00? How about I put him next to me in bed and keep a water bowl nearby. Blood tests? Is he wobbling, shaking, panting, crawling, toes up? Next. Ultrasound? This one was a throw-away because they admitted the ultrasound wouldn't be any better than the x-ray. Barium study for $500.00. This one had me stumped.

The nurse and I worked out a deal and she went off to tell the doctor. Five seconds later the white-coat was back and the tongue and pen were clicking like crazy.

"M'am, I wouldn't recommed taking him home," she sniffed. "It could be dangerous."

"But," I protested, "he seems fine!" In fact he was looking pretty perky.

She pointed to the x-ray again. I leaned in closer and started seeing weird shadows in the gassy colon. "Like I said," it looks very suspicious."

The rhetoric was getting stronger but still no actual diagnosis. We went back and forth like this for the better part of two hours until I finally gave in and had a battery of tests done, including the very expensive barium study. Then I had to go home (leaving Dale there to undergo the procedure which they said could take up to 48 hours and multiple x-rays) and face the muzack with my husband, who, to his credit, was unbelievably sympathetic.

"I'd pay that for you," was what he said. I couldn't help wondering if that's all he would have paid for me.

End of story - the clinic called two short hours later to tell me the barium passed through without incident. Blood tests normal, doggie fine. Excuse me, all is not fine. We are $700.00 poorer. There goes the dental work I was supposed to have this month.

My husband got home to the news of the bill. His only comment: "Expensive enema."

I've since figured out Dale has hairballs from licking our beagle, Daisy.

Next time, a $5.95 tube of 'Hairball-Away' from the pet store will do just fine.