GuysterRules (guysterrules) wrote,

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Oh Bob!

Yesterday I woke up and things felt wrong. Very wrong. Maybe it was the dream that shook me out of my sleep. It was something about an impending accident on Tuesday that will make me cry. But once I slunk from the bed and my feet touched the floor, I felt as if I were sinking into a soft, unstable ground. I stumbled to the bathroom to pee and noticed Bob was on the living room couch looking back at me.

I gave a good scrub to my teeth and face hoping to wash away the ick. When I walked back through the living room, Bob was still looking at me and he didn't appear very happy. I thought maybe because I slept until nine thirty that he was angry at being made to wait. I threw on some sweats and a long sleeve t-shirt. I went into the kitchen and opened the door to the magic cabinet, the place where Big Business bags are kept and the final signal for Bob that a walk is in his near future.

When he rounded the corner into the kitchen, I froze. His front leg was not working enough for him to keep balance. He looked scared and pleading. I fell to my knees and hugged him all the while reassuring him we would go to the doctor. I had planned on making an appointment anyway because for the last few days, he's had trouble assuming the Big Business position.

Billy's and my greatest shared fear was losing Bob. We adopted him when he was five but we always knew there would come that time as it did with our Vinyldog. Whenever the thought would push itself into the forefront of my mind, I always took comfort in knowing Billy would be with me and we would rest Bob near Vinyldog in the Los Angeles Pet Cemetery. With Billy in the Witness Protection Program where I can no longer speak with him, Bob's stock has risen even higher in my life.

We made a hesitant and painful walk around the block while I called the vet on my cell phone. After his half-eaten breakfast, I lifted him into the front seat, a task both of us find embarrassing. The moment we stepped into the vet waiting room, he started to shiver. I wrapped my arms around his big thick neck and kissed the top of his head, cooing in his ear. We went into the exam room and waited. As soon as Dr. Elliot walked in, Bob was up and mobile and as happy as a puppy. I shot him daggers.

After blood work was taken and his nails clipped, we walked out less three hundred dollars in our pocket. I find out about his blood results tomorrow but anticipate nothing wrong. Next time when he is limping, I won't even make an appointment. I will simply drive to the vet's office and show him. It seems to be the elixir that works.

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