Cooper

This has been delayed. Due to trama? Maybe. Inability to accept what happened? Perhaps. A good old fashioned case of the willies? Most possible.  Come a little closer to me. I want to show you something.  But first, a little story:

My Nubian Princess, Birdie, is part of my entourage.  You all know that.  She is my tiny shadow and there isn't a place that I go she doesn't follow.  However, she is a wanderer; treasuring the time she spends under things: decks, clothes, porches, tree stumps, sink holes; you get the picture? You bet.  Your'e all smarties.  A few days ago, I noticed she was licking her "elbow" a lot.  I am the only one who can "wool" her around, so I snatched her up, flipped her over and took a gander.  A red spot. Hmph. Must've gotten bit.  We've been traveling to see friends and take the toddlers with us when there is a puppy fruiendly home. She must have found a not so friendly bug: an earwig, a spider...who knows. So I dismissed and moved along.

But she kept licking and figeting with it. Hmph. so I snatched her up, flipped her over and took a gander. Now it was red with a small hole there. Ohhhh great. NOW I thought she had REALLY gotten popped: by a tick or a brown recluse or maybe even (God help her) some whacked out crazy bee that deposited a poison sack. Poor lil girl.  I was up north and decided that since there was nothing I could do until after the holiday, I would at least try to make her comfortable.  I got out the antibiotic ointment, snatched her up, flipped her over and took a gander. Yep. Needs ointment.  So I splopped on it and held her, rubbing her belly so she wouldn't immediately chew off my failproof plan.  Well, my intentions got derailed.

The ointment moved as if by a windhsield wiper.

Read it again.

At first, I justified it by a poison sack having its own pulse or her irritaion and that muscle movement must have played tricks on my eyes.  So of course I pushed it back over the wound and waited.

The ointment moved. (swiiiiiish-bloop!)

Revulsion is a creeping emotion. It is one of the most frightening too. My shoulder blades went weak and my mouth instantly puckered. Ew. EW

EWWWWW!

I ,for what ever weird reason knew what that was and began to shiver, way down deep. A warble. A bott fly. Oh my God. A larvae was peeking at me from my dog's elbow. What the HELL? So I called the vet and made the appointment. Still glaring at the awful bug staring at me from under her skin.

I was met at the door by six people who snatched her up, flipped her over and took a gander. Then like a wininng football star, they carried her back with excitement to go and see what it was all about. She was distraught. Understandably so. If you had a frigging stowaway in YOUR elbow and a bunch of freaks carried you off to poke you with needles and pull at the ONE spot on your body that hurt...

They had to give her another dose of propofol. Michael would have been jealous.  Schiperkees stress and typically require more than calculated dose. So they operated and she came back to me; larvae free and higher than a kite. I think in the softest puppy voice I could have heard, she said something along the lines of

"DUUUUUUUDE! The COLORS are SOOOO sparkly!"

I carried her out and laid her down in the seat with a blankie. (Who doesn't want a good blankie?)  They handed me her meds and a vial. The little bastard was in there. I drove home, cooing and soothing my lil junkie in the back and once home, I set all the stuff on the counter; including the offender.  My daughter snatched it up, flipped it over and took a gander.

"It's name is Cooper."

"That's disgusting. No it isn't."

"Can I keep it in my room? I think it's looking at me."

"That's disgusting. No. and it probably is. If you keep it in your room it will get out and find you...YOUR arm."

"MOM! That's dis-GUST-ing"

I carried the patient who was humming puppy songs happily from the backseat of my car up to her cage and sat her down.  she collapsed sideways on the carpet and giggled in a chuff.  I scooped her up and laid her on her blankie in her cage.  She didn't move. She didn't blink. she could only loll there.  I had to push her back in to her crate by her face because I simply couldn't get to her. My furry little hop-head.

Today, she is a different young lady. She can run and she seems much more cheerful.  I am glad to have my little shadow back.

Cooper?  I walked by his vial for a day or two and shook it like a muthah, scolding it and hoping childishly that I was giving it a headacke or at least blurred vision. Little bastard.  Hurt my pooch.  Serves ya right.

Sooooo
Meet Cooper.