Angus has an infection in his head. I fear that it's been there for longer than I'd like to think about. Old dogs, you know . . . even poodles . . . develop a stink . . . so we didn't pay much attention until he really began to reek more than a nearly seventeen-year-old poodle should. I have an appointment for 3:00 Monday afternoon. I'm thinking it's an ear infection that grew into something monstrous. He's always been prone to ear infections.
We've been living from day to day since the middle of last week, hoping that the doctor will say, "Here's some antibiotic. This'll fix him up in no time," but I'm not really expecting that. What I'm expecting is surgery with the attendant cardiac risks for a dog who has . . . issues . . . in that area.
Well, what can I do? Que sera, sera.
Husband thinks he's petted out because he can't stand the ending part. Everybody always feels that way, but we've always had at least one dog since our fifth year together.
What would we talk about if we should have no pet at all?
Stumbling Tthrough a Dark Wood
3 hours ago