Adventures in Housesitting

I’m housesitting, now, for three lovely animals. There are two cats who tolerate me and a dog, L., who is in love with me.
It’s a nice condo in an area I really like–there’s a nearby co-op, which is AWESOME and if I were rich I would spend all my money there, at the great pet store, and of course on books. Oh my lord that co-op.
The only problem with the location is that it took me 40 minutes to drive to analysis this morning. I will be spending a fair amount of $ on gas! But the fact that it’s right near Sligo Creek Park, where I took a (very short) run this morning, and the co-op–totally worth it. Now if there were just a used bookstore…
However! Two (count em TWO) notable things happened Sunday.
Thing One: I grabbed some keys. They were the wrong keys. I came back and couldn’t get in. So! I very bravely (hehe) scaled the fence. It was, I must confess, damn impressive. (Shit, I thought, balanced precariously on the top, I hope I don’t fall and break an ankle!)
L. had been limping since I arrived Saturday, but even in those 24 ish hours she had gotten notably worse. I called her vet. We can see her tomorrow, they said.
I made an appointment, then scanned the website where I’d gotten their number. I noticed rather a lot of DO NOT BRING YOUR PET HERE reviews. (also some good ones). Hmm, I said.
If they could have seen her that day I would have brought her there, but as it happens I was just as glad they couldn’t.
I looked at L. She looked at me. I remembered all the limping and hopping and the way, when walking, she’d look at me and whine.
This was one of those Tough Calls ™ because I did not want to run up a huge bill for her owner to deal with. On the other hand…I really thought something was wrong.
I argued with myself about it for awhile. I googled assorted things. I reminded myself that I don’t panic easily, at least not about things like this, and that I generally have good instincts. OK, I told L. Let’s go.
She was not pleased.
We headed off to Friendship Animal Hospital. Friendship charges a small fortune, but they are also good. They are not as good as our AMAZING vet (shout out to Dr. Weiss at Bradley Hills!) but they are good, and I won’t forget how kind one of their doctors was when she put our cat down.
In the waiting room I chatted with a woman who recognized L. I described L.’s symptoms. The woman nodded. Because of Zoe I know ALL ABOUT the assorted canine orthos in the area, so we discussed that for awhile. At one point the woman, who’s Lab has had two ACL surgeries, was on the phone and informed whomever she was talking to that she’d seen L. and it looked like L. had the same thing their dog did.
No way, I thought. It’s just a pulled muscle. Or something.
The vet brought her. I held her head and kissed her. Be careful, he told me.
She looked fine to me. Tense, but OK.
It looks like a torn ACL, the vet said.
Seriously? I said. (I think I need to work on my doctor responses).
Yes…he said.
They took poor L. back for x-rays. I called the owner. The vet talked to the owner.
Eventually we went home.
Now! Poor L.! Zoe is over here, too, and we mostly hang out in the bedroom. L. is a bit better because of All The Drugs and also All The Treats and also All The Love, but still, not the happiest camper ever. She’d rather be out playing, I’m sure. And she has to be crated if I’m not here. As a result, I left the house for work yesterday and will do analysis a few times, but that’s about it. I’m getting a LOT of reading done.
Housesitting…where the adventure never ends.

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One response

  1. Sitting for animals–so very BSC. But no, the vet was supposed to tell you she was having puppies. Even if she were a boy.

    May 31, 2010 at 2:10 pm

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