A Shot to the Pair-Pair
So, we have a dog living with Addison's disease.
You'd never know it.
Since her little expensive trip to the vets Paris has done her usual dancing around the house. She's always awake, always ready for the trips in the car.
But we knew it was coming.
She'd have to get a shot that would keep her jumping up and down - doing the 'Pair-Pair'.
Of course, care of all things living in this house comes down to the resident nurse. My beautiful wife was going to have to get the medicine, read the overviews and finally, administer the shot.
That was the course of action that 'we' decided on and I almost stepped in a huge pile when I said:
"Are you sure you can give her the shot?"
That would sort of be like her asking me if I could write a five-page paper.
"I give shots every day. I've given thousands of them. Of course I can give it to her."
Still, I was nervous for the dog. I don't know all the other people she has to stick with a needle.
I know the Pair-Pair.
Sam was all about helping, of course.
He's been the one who's given Paris her daily oral medication during the week. (I get the weekends because I'm up about 5 hours before he is).
"Let's do this!" he said excitedly on Saturday afternoon.
Neither Kathy or I were quite as excited.
We had one huge problem.
Kathy went to the floor to check Paris' side for the spot to give the shot and Melky got down off the couch and tried to intervene. Melky is aware of everything. No one, and I mean no one, is going to do something weird on her watch. She sensed that Paris was going to receive some healthcare.
Sam was able to draw Melky up and out of the room with a couple of cheese nips.
Melky cares, of course, but cheese nips win.
So we were ready.
I was on the floor in front of Paris so that she could see me. Sam was feeding her peanut butter on a spoon to distract her even further. Kathy was searching for the muscle.
"Is this it?" she asked.
"You asking me?" I said. "I don't have a freaking clue."
"I'm just talking my way through it," Kathy said.
Sam administered another taste of peanut butter.
"Why don't we take her to the vet for the first one?" I asked.
"I already drew it," Kathy answered. "Here goes nothing."
I'm glad the dog can't fully understand. Could you imagine the doc saying 'Well, here goes nothing' right before doing something to you?
But of course, Kathy was right on the money.
Paris never even flinched.
Three minutes later she was jumping up to say 'hello.'
28 days until the next one.
"That was fun," Sam said.
Yep.
A real blast.
Nurse Kathy with the perfect shot!
You'd never know it.
Since her little expensive trip to the vets Paris has done her usual dancing around the house. She's always awake, always ready for the trips in the car.
But we knew it was coming.
She'd have to get a shot that would keep her jumping up and down - doing the 'Pair-Pair'.
Of course, care of all things living in this house comes down to the resident nurse. My beautiful wife was going to have to get the medicine, read the overviews and finally, administer the shot.
That was the course of action that 'we' decided on and I almost stepped in a huge pile when I said:
"Are you sure you can give her the shot?"
That would sort of be like her asking me if I could write a five-page paper.
"I give shots every day. I've given thousands of them. Of course I can give it to her."
Still, I was nervous for the dog. I don't know all the other people she has to stick with a needle.
I know the Pair-Pair.
Sam was all about helping, of course.
He's been the one who's given Paris her daily oral medication during the week. (I get the weekends because I'm up about 5 hours before he is).
"Let's do this!" he said excitedly on Saturday afternoon.
Neither Kathy or I were quite as excited.
We had one huge problem.
Kathy went to the floor to check Paris' side for the spot to give the shot and Melky got down off the couch and tried to intervene. Melky is aware of everything. No one, and I mean no one, is going to do something weird on her watch. She sensed that Paris was going to receive some healthcare.
Sam was able to draw Melky up and out of the room with a couple of cheese nips.
Melky cares, of course, but cheese nips win.
So we were ready.
I was on the floor in front of Paris so that she could see me. Sam was feeding her peanut butter on a spoon to distract her even further. Kathy was searching for the muscle.
"Is this it?" she asked.
"You asking me?" I said. "I don't have a freaking clue."
"I'm just talking my way through it," Kathy said.
Sam administered another taste of peanut butter.
"Why don't we take her to the vet for the first one?" I asked.
"I already drew it," Kathy answered. "Here goes nothing."
I'm glad the dog can't fully understand. Could you imagine the doc saying 'Well, here goes nothing' right before doing something to you?
But of course, Kathy was right on the money.
Paris never even flinched.
Three minutes later she was jumping up to say 'hello.'
28 days until the next one.
"That was fun," Sam said.
Yep.
A real blast.
Nurse Kathy with the perfect shot!
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