Wilma has a very structured routine for getting food. We started it as a puppy because they always say you should be able to interrupt a dog when it's eating so it doesn't bite. Wilma's got this routine down to a science.
I don't even want to look at the food bowl. It's so tempting.
Look, I'm drooling.
Yum. Yum. Yum. Yum.
OK Girly Girl - Go ahead.
And she's off to the races!
Trot, trot, trot.
Eat, eat. eat.
Then she licks the juice off her paws for about ten minutes after each meal... just in case a bit spilled on her paws.
What a cute routine. Sometimes when she's hungry - or if I forgot to feed her, she'll sit and lift her paw at the same time to remind me that I'm forgetting something very urgent.
Sometimes she does that same trick to BF, just to see if she can get seconds out of him. It usually works.
Today Wilma went back to the cardiologist. Yes. I just admitted that my dog has a cardiologist.
She loves going to the Emergency Veterinary Hospital because the entire staff fawn over Girly Girl - which is just as she likes it.
Wilma eagerly awaited her turn.
Wilma was outfitted with a Holter monitor. This looks like a little doggy vest with backpack. She'll wear it for 24 hours and we'll monitor her activities. The cardiologist asked me to push Wilma to her limits so the exam will monitor Wilma during stressful situations. Right now, the only stressful thing she has is getting her nails trimmed. So sure enough, I'll be taking Girly Girl to get her paw-dicure tomorrow morning to see how she reacts to her grooming session and how it affects her heart.
I know. About this time, you're all rolling your eyes. But how can I resist when she's so darned cute.
And appropriately, I managed to finish two more heart swatches. I think these will be worth the extra effort. I like them more than I anticipated. I'll likely knit five or six more.
So take heart. Wilma is doing well. And the blanket is growing. All is progressing as it should.
I just noticed for the first time that Wilma's heart medicine comes with a few warnings.
OK - a dog can get dizzy. And she is a female, albeit spayed, so the pharmacist could assume she might be a pregnant bulldog. But really? Does "Wilma DOG Jackson" need a warning that her "Medication may impair [her] ability to drive or operate machinery. USE CARE WHILE DRIVING?"
Wilma, I think it's safe to say that your driving days are over.
Wilma and I are hanging out this week during Winter Break. She's doing really well, but there are still signs that she's not a puppy anymore. She can't really do steps anymore - or only when she's really feeling great. She sleeps even more than usual, which is really saying something for a bulldog. And this week, I've been cracking up as she's been storing all her stuffed animals near my shower.
It's not unusual to find one toy in the master bathroom. I chuckled when I saw two toys earlier this week. But I really cracked up this afternoon when I saw that there was a Wilma's toy convention happening outside my shower. I was beginning to wonder if some sort of Toy Story movie was being played out when I wasn't looking.
I took Wilma back to the Norwalk Emergency Veterinary Hospital on Friday for her follow-up visit. She was so excited to be there. I think she remembered it as the place where everyone loves her and hugs her and pays her all sorts of nice attention.
The cardiologist gave Wilma a clean bill of health. We don't need to see her for a few months. She is responding really well to the medications. In fact, she's doing so well, today she had a playdate.
Our friends Matt and Virginia brought over their two bulldogs - Olivia (on the left) and Jag (on the right). Wilma wasn't quite sure what to make of them - as she thinks she is the only dog in the world and the only one capable of receiving anyone's attention. But she loves Matt and Virginia so much, she was happy to meet their dogs. Olivia and Wilma had a little Alpha Dog square off. Papa Jag just calmly stayed out of it and let these two ladies duke it out.
So thanks everyone for all your well wishes for Girly Girl. She's doing much better. I can't tell you how pleased we are!
My friend Rob shared this joke with me when he learned of Wilma's woes and her $tay at the Emergen$y Veterinary Ho$pital.
A woman brought a very limp duck into a veterinary hospital. As she lay her pet on the table, the vet pulled out his stethoscope and listened to the duck's chest. After a moment or two, the Vet shook his head sadly and said, "I'm so sorry, the duck has passed away."
The distressed owner wailed, "Are you sure? I mean, you haven't done any testing on him or anything. He might just be in a coma or something. I want a second opinion"
The vet rolled his eyes, shrugged, turned and left the room returning a few moments later with beautiful black Labrador. As the duck's owner looked on in amazement, the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the examination table and sniffed the dead duck from top to bottom. He then looked at the vet with sad eyes and shook his head.
The vet led the dog out but returned a few moments later with a cat. The cat jumped up and also sniffed delicately at the ex-bird. The cat sat back, shook its head, meowed and ran out of the room. The vet looked at the woman and said, "I'm sorry; but like I said, your duck is most definitely, 100% certifiably ...dead."
He then turned to his computer terminal, hit a few keys and produced a bill which he handed to the woman. The duck's owner, still in shock, took the bill. "$10,000!" she cried. "$10,000 just to tell me my bird is dead?!"
The vet shrugged. "If you'd taken my word for it, the bill would only have been $100, but with the Lab Report and the Cat Scan, what did you expect?"