Saturday, July 9, 2011

A Shitty Day Got Shittier

I went home and was going to put the rest of the day behind me. My fate was sealed and there wasn’t shit I could do about it. Weeks later, I found how just how true that was. Someone told me that the managers had already made their decisions of who would stay, even before the Town Hall meeting was held. I wanted to spend the rest of that miserable day with my Baby Boy. Even that would be denied from me.

I walked into the door but Andy didn’t come greet me as normal. Instead, he was sitting on the rug in the living room with a scared look in his eyes. I looked closer and his hair all around his neck was matted in a liquid like substance. It was puss. How he got infected, I don’t know. The vet later guessed it was a bug or a spider of some sort that bit Andy causing the infection.

Since it was after 6pm, I would have to take Andy to the after hours clinic. I didn’t want to wait until the next day. It looked pretty nasty and Andy must have been in quite a bit of pain. I took him by my mom’s so she could see and we decided to take Andy to the clinic that night. That place costs money, usually around $200 just to walk in the door.

The vet wasn’t sure if Andy had to stay overnight. She gave me an estimate of the procedure and requested I pay half upfront before any work was done. I signed forms and paid the deposit and went home. A couple of hours later, Andy was ready to go. The vet had shaved Andy’s throat area, cleaned up the area and gave him some medicines.

She gave me instructions to not let him scratch the area or else he would aggravate it. She recommended he be supervised around the clock. Andy would have to stay at my mom’s for the next few days. I went back to the vet, picked up Andy and took him to my mom’s. On the way over, he quietly started scratching his throat, just what he wasn’t supposed to do. Since he didn’t have his collar on, I couldn’t tell what he was doing until he had scratched several times. I bet his throat was a hundred times worse than any razor burn I’ve ever had. My Baby Boy was miserable.

I dropped him off at my mom’s and went home to put an end to an awful day. What a wonderful way to enter middle age. Happy fucking birthday to me.

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