It's a wonderful spring day here today, the dogs are lying at my feet, and I'm planning a couple hours of writing, plus some cleaning.  I thought I'd tell you about my doggie saga from this weekend.

About Thursday of last week, Turbo, my little white Pom, began walking funny, and his breathing worsened (he has what's called a collapsed trachea, which causes him to huff or wheeze sometimes).  I gave him his meds, but that didn't seem to help.

Friday, little change.  But he was eating, he wasn't dehydrated, he would wag his tail, so I figured old age setting in, kept up the meds and kept an eye on him.  Now, Turbo acts funny quite a lot, and I've learned from numerous trips to the vet not to over-react, and wait and see.  Usually, he returns to normal (as normal as Turbo ever is) in a couple of days.

Saturday night, his back's now arched, and we have difficulty getting him to eat.  Now, Turbo is a food whore, he'll do anything for a treat.  Sunday morning, he takes his treat, drops it on the floor, then starts snarling (not just a growl but an actual snarl) at any dog who walks within five feet. I check him over. His neck's stiff, his breathing's worse and he walks like an old man who had his walker taken away from him.

Time to call the vet. Something is seriously wrong.

Vet's booked up solid (why are people taking their dogs to the vet on a Sunday?  Don't they know they're supposed to be RESTING???) They listen to his symptoms and tell me to take him to the emergency clinic.

Off we go, into the car, and Turbo perks up a bit, and demands to drive.  No. Dogs under ten inches tall CANNOT drive (anything taller than that, that's up to their owners, but not in my car!)

We make it to the emergency vet, and they immediately put us in a room, and start taking his history. Dummy me forgot his meds at home, so they call his regular vet.  This vet comes in (oooh, a cutie!) and I immediately perk up.  (And did I put on make-up before storming out of the house with my dying dog?  Of course not!!!)

The vet wants x-rays, he's confused about the very stiff neck, and off they go, while I return to the waiting room and converse with a very nice man and his black lab, Bubba, and his wife .

Vet comes out, talks to another family whose dog was (I think) hit by a car.  Sounds very grim.  Teenaged girl is crying (I wanted to cry too, and I never saw their dog), dad and sister are comforting her, and it doesn't sound good.  Then Mr. Hotty turns to me, asks me to come into the back room with him (anywhere you go, I go, baby) and we look at Turbo's x-rays.

"His back looks fine, although with the arching I'm suspecting some soft tissue injury. Heart is fine, lungs look great, his collapsed trachea is actually looking almost normal today," he says. Then he points at the bowels.  "Here,  it shows a bit of stool buildup."

A bit? All that cloudy stuff, he calls it a bit??

So the long and short of it is we had all that drama over a load of crap.

One enema, some painkillers and Turbo's back to being Turbo.

And all that crap cost me over $260.

Look at that face and tell me if it's worth $260.  (I'm still debating)