I lost sleep last night because he has to go in to the vet's this morning for a tooth-cleaning job--and they say they need to put him under for the process. We worry about this because his breed is susceptible to heart problems, and we know that he has had a faint heart murmur since puppyhood. It seems like an unkind Christmas present for the poor lad, but we have been postponing it for reasons that have had more to do with us than with his health.
So... today's the day. It's seven-thirty in the morning and he has been wondering what happened to his breakfast. Not an auspicious start to the day, for one who has a healthy appetite. However, he does seem to accept things as they come--in good Buddhist fashion--and is now making his customary nest for himself on our bed as I sit here, propped up against the pillows, writing this entry. All too soon the dreaded hour will come, and we'll have to pack him up in the car and drive him to his date with the drill and, quite possibly we understand, with the extraction forceps...
Here's a request to all you animal lovers out there, reading these words: send a good thought out in George's direction. I'm sure that he'll do fine...
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