Tag - dog

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Macabre musings
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Max has diabetes
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Eleven years of Max!

Macabre musings

Macabre musing #1:

Because a box of ashes deserves more than a plastic bag.

Because a box of ashes deserves more than a plastic bag.

This is the bag that Charlie’s remains came in. Doesn’t it look like it came from some swanky little artsy boutique? I’m tempted to carry my lunch to work in it and see if anyone notices.

Macabre musing #2:

(in bathroom, staring at new bathroom rug)
Me: (sighs sadly) Now that Charlie’s gone I can have a bathroom rug again.
WM: If it makes you feel better, I’ll pee on it.

Macabre musing #3:

(at Target)
Me: (pulling cheap white towels off of a stack) Rather than pee pads, we can use these for Max until his peeing slows down.
WM: In that case, get the yellow ones.

Need towels for leaky pets? Urine luck!

Need towels for leaky pets? Urine luck!

Max has diabetes

Two blog posts in one day? Am I mad? (answer: yes)

Trying to laugh.

Trying to laugh.

I took Max to the vet last night because he’s having pee problems. He’s peeing himself while he sleeps (JUST as disgusting to deal with as you’d imagine) and occasionally dripping pee. They took blood and urine samples from him and started him on some antibiotics that cost more than the outfit I’m wearing today.

The vet called today and the diagnosis is diabetes. UGH. I went though this before with Mickey and while I’m up to the task, this plus Max’s age doesn’t bode well for his life expectancy. This hasn’t been a good few weeks for the critters of the household. I’m going to wrap Ollie in bubblewrap.

I think it’s time for Obamacare for pets.

Eleven years of Max!

Eleven years ago today, I brought Max home from the shelter.

Max, thrilled.

Max, thrilled.

I don’t know how old he is, which saddens me. When we brought him home the vet said he was 1 or 2 years old. Which makes him 12 or 13 (eek). Maybe. He’s holding up well, with an occasional random bladder emptying here and there. He had a little health scare early in the year, but follow-up blood tests came back fine. He is stubborn and difficult at times. He will drop his ears and waggle his tail bashfully as little children pet him on our walks, and then he will come upstairs and tear through all of the paper in the office garbage can with the hope that he’ll find a greasy napkin or food wrapper.

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