After a day of teeth-gnashing and nail-biting, I had my Cleo back in my arms. Minus 3 pesky mast cell tumors -- 2 on her thigh, one on her chest. Our wonderful vet removed them with the tiniest of incisions. Cleo barely seemed to notice.
|it still kills me that she has stitches|
Oh, wait. How could I fail to mention the pug that woke me in the middle of the night, whining? little pathetic noises broke my heart. I thought she was in pain. As I went to her, she jumped off of the bed, ran to the water bowl, and drank it dry. Then came back to bed and settled in happily to go back to sleep. One wonders why she felt the need to be so vocal about being thirsty.
|i felt u should know in case u wanted to carry me to the water bowl|