As I began working on my blog this morning I was distracted by a cry of alarm from across the house.  One of my Boston Terriers, Pip, had been developing an infection on his stomach where he’d had an operation a few months back.  We began giving him antibiotics and warm compresses yesterday after taking him to the vet, but when he woke up this morning the infection had begun to abscess.  It looked really bad, probably worse than it actually was, but the site of it caused my partner a great deal of distress, hence the alarming cry from the dogs’ sleeping area. 


I gave up my attempt at writing - just as well as I was really not very focused at the time - and we took Pip back to the vet.  Long story short, we were given a choice of returning home with him and taking a wait and see approach (waiting and seeing for what, I’m still not sure - I don’t think it could have gotten much worse without being life-threatening and I had no idea how to make it better) or to have him go under the knife to fix the problem.  We chose the latter.  So now Pip is at the vet, awaiting surgery, and I am home, biting my fingernails. 


Pip has been a bit sickly since the day we first met him.  He was carsick the whole trip home from the breeders.  He developed a hiatal hernia a few weeks afterward, which mandated emergency surgery and several weeks of recovery.  Since then he’s developed a series of infections along the area where the surgeon stitched him up.  Despite all this, he is one of the most delightful, playful, loving animals I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.  His brother, Puck, isn’t half bad, either.  I feel very lucky to have them in my life.


I realize this entry has nothing whatsoever to do with the subject matter of this blog, but I wanted to get a blog entry out today and I’m too worried about Pip to write anything else worth reading.  I suppose I could write a song about the situatioin - I tend to do that whenever things are stressful in my life, hence all the ditties about fights, breakups, nervous breakdowns and midlife crises.  Yes, I do, in fact, perceive the world as my own private catharsis machine and anybody lucky enough to read my blog or listen to my music as my personal confessor. 


Not to worry, though, I haven’t forgotten about the Scottish bands I promised to write about this week.  As soon as Pip’s home and safe I’ll pick up where I left off.


Peace,


S.

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Puck (L) and Pip (R)