Do you ever have a “gut feeling”? Like Gibbs on NCIS? I started feeling a little uneasy about The Fonz lately, Dr. Nadene brought up how he was limping (still don’t see it!), I found a couple of new lumps on him, and he’s been really clingy lately. And then, the other night, just lying on the floor of the nursery while Sam brought me book after book to read one page of, his teeth chattered for like, 10 seconds, and even the top of his head was quivering. Something was not right.
I’ve never been a big fan of my gut, whether the one that sticks out from a shirt that is too short because I have a weirdly long torso, or the one that tells me things. Specifically, the one that tells me things incorrectly. Like how Samantha was going to be a boy. Yeah, missed the mark on that one. Or how I was sure my wedding would have no major disasters. (lost childhood photos, anyone?) I seem to have no intuition at all.
So I was hoping that my gut was again wrong when Fonz and I went to the vet this afternoon. I LOVE my vet, and even though I didn’t get to see her, I got to see the tech that I love, the office manager who I love, and also another one of the vets there…who I love. She found four new lumps on Fonz, and rotated and manipulated his legs and felt there was nothing wrong, except maybe a tweaked knee. But she was happy to oblige my request for x-rays, you know, since I am a hypochondriac. Well, a canine hypochondriac.
And lo and behold, not only is there NO CANCER, but there is HARDLY ANY ARTHRITIS! No wonder Fonz runs around like he is two, he’s all hopped up on pain meds! (or, as one friend pointed out, addicted to pain meds) It would seem as though the years of supplements might be doing him some good. (or he has good genes…I’d like to think the money spent is why) And YET AGAIN, my gut is wrong. Awesome.
I think that perhaps Fonz has adopted my canine hypochondria, because as soon as we got home, he was literally bouncing up and down in front of me, playing bowing, tossing a toy in the air, bringing it to me, running away, hopping up on the bed, hopping down off the bed, and begging for treats. He must’ve heard me when I said that he was as healthy as a horse. I really think he wanted me to drop $157 just so he could feel better. I know I do.