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Monday, December 12, 2005

Bubby Jack was sick today. I had to come into work late so I could get him over to the vet. His blasted ear was bothering him again. I felt so bad because it is my responsibility to not let it get that bad. I’m a bad mommy.

Last night he came in from outside, stopped in the middle of the kitchen with his head at sort of a low, crooked position, and then just dropped to the floor. And that’s where he stayed for hours. I knew as soon as I saw the poor guy’s face that he was sick as a dog – and if you had seen him you would know where that expression comes from. He looked like his entire world had just exploded and all his friends were inside. I lifted his ear and saw nothing but evil. My poor, poor bubby.

I knew his ear was a little bad for weeks. I kept an eye on it, but you know how these things are. They just decide one night to blossom into the world’s worst yeast infection. Jack is prone to these and I had already used the last of the medicine up on the previous one.

Floppy cocker spaniels are supposed to have these problems, not smart bubbies with short folded ears.

Consequently, last night he got a new collar. It was supposed to go in his stocking, but Ozzy was getting his new one that night because his old one was ruined, and its not fair to give one of your kids a present and not to the other, so Jack got his. It was red, just like his old one. The only difference was it had a plastic latch that looked like a seat belt instead of the old metal belt like latch. I attached to his neck and let him outside.

Funny how he started to act sick as soon as I let him inside.

You ever watch mystery, only to see clues to solve it, but the characters don’t catch on until the end? Well, I should have put two and two together…

For hours, that dog did not move off the floor. I cleaned his ear the best I could and he just lied there like someone had cut his legs off. Eventually he decided it was time for him to go to sleep, and being more of a human boy child then a canine, he went up the stairs and tucked himself under the bed. I had to use a chicken leg to get him out. But he only walked two feet before he plopped back down on his dog bed. I petted him like the good dog he is, told him over and over how sorry I was, and scratched his favorite spot on his back. He didn’t move, didn’t moan, didn’t flinch, nothing. Wow, I thought. Bubby is really not well…

To say the least, I got no sleep that night. I was as worried as any mother with a sick child. I had dreams about him and woke every time I heard something, thinking maybe it was him calling for me.

In the morning, I found him laying in the same position he fell asleep in, looking up at me with big doe eyes. “Feeling any better bubby?” I asked him.

His body shook.

Oh that’s it, I said. He’s going to vet. It was 6:30am. I called the vet and left a message. I left another for work that I had a sick baby and would be in as soon as I could. I told Earl we had to take Jack in, and in that instant, Jack slide under the bed again. At 9am, the vet called and told me to bring him right in. I had no more chicken legs left and had to actually pull him out and push all 80 lbs of him to the stairs, where he collapse again. It was then that Earl said what I thought was one of the silliest things I’d ever heard…

“Maybe he doesn’t like his new collar.”


“Well, the plastic clasp does kinda look like that bark collar we once used on him.”

By george, you’re right. I unsnapped the collar – Up went the dog – And down the stairs he went on his own free will.

Oh my god. You gotta be freaking kidding me. Well, his ear is still really bad so he’s still going in. And off to the vet we went, where Jack hardly appeared to be the sick, on the verge of death, dog I had described over the phone to the vet.

After debating whether or not to share my story, I decided its best the vet gets the whole truth. And yes, she had a good laugh. Jack did indeed have a severe yeast infection in his ear. He was sent home with medicine and a strict diet consisting of:

1) No more pizza crusts
2) No more beer

Damn. His two favorites. Doesn’t it always figure your vices will getcha in the end? These two things, among others, cause yeast and he can’t have them anymore. Poor guy.

He did get a new squeaky snowman with a tennis ball belly for his pain and suffering though, cause he’s my bubby.

I’ll keep you updated on his progress. And be forewarned - if you have a smart ass dog that remembers things you do to him, like strapping bark collars around their necks, it may come back to bite you in the ass.