BronxWench

So, the corgi who owns me, She Who Is an Agent of Chaos, decided to scare the life out of me this weekend with a marathon of vomiting followed by some bloody stool. She decided to do this at the lake, and only because the daft one was called into work, and left with the car.

Cue Elderspawn who rode to the rescue on Sunday morning, drove up to collect me, the ailing corgi, and Youngerspawn, so we could camp out at the 24-hour emergency vet for three hours only to be told the vet had to leave, and wouldn’t be able to see us. I am, at this point, in tears.

We realize our regular vet is now open, because the gods are kind, and so we head there, manage to get seen without an appointment, and head home with meds to await the results of tests today. Of course, we are told not to feed the corgi, which is apparently an Unforgiveable Sin and results in nonstop side-eye and much deep sighing.

Your kids grow up and are able to do things like drive to your rescue. Your furbabies will be toddlers forever. This morning, I was able to feed the corgi. The bottomless pit cleverly disguised as an adorable fluffbutt picked at her breakfast, a meal normally devoured in 3.7 seconds.

I’m going to be making chicken and rice for her this afternoon. I know my place.