I am an unexpected emotional wreck this morning. Was driving the girls over to the in laws’ for doggy day care for the day and inexplicably burst into tears and started worrying over Daisy dying. She’s not dying. We’ve been to the vet. There’s nothing wrong with her. Slightly elevated liver enzymes and her cholesterol is a little bit up. She’s been put on special food for that. Vet says nothing to worry about. But she’s just…not quite herself the last couple of weeks. And it’s freaking me out.
Part of it is that it’s almost March and March is the evil hell month when horrible shit always happens. Leg breaks. Deaths in the family. Daisy’s stroke last year. I have learned to be a bit of a paranoid wreck during March.
She’s made an AMAZING recovery in the last year. Not 100% but so much more than most dogs who have an FCE ever do. But she’s been ill more often. UTI’s. Bouts with claustridia. As I said, nothing came up at the last vet trip, but she’s just…not herself. Not moving quite as well as she has been. More lethargic. Not drinking enough. She’s going to be 12 this summer. And as much as I’d like to think she’ll be one of those dogs who hangs out to 20…chances are she won’t. And it has me freaking out.
And damn it, there go the waterworks again.
Daisy’s my baby. My first dog. I got her my senior year of college from the Humane Society. I’d actually gone to look at this litter of spaniel puppies. They let all the puppies out and tossed a couple of beanie babies into the fray for them to play with. All of them started fighting over one, and Daisy (the runt of her litter) stole the second one and went to hide it behind a box fan. Then she came back to get the other one. She had brains and I was sold. I swear, if she had the appropriate vocal apparatus, she would totally be the dog version of Brain from Pinky and the Brain. She’s a diva and a darling. And she needs to feel better, damn it. I need my paranoia to be nothing.