How Is Every Human Parent Ever Not Just Dead From a Heart Attack

I am absolutely not gonna share the number of times that I called our vet's emergency help line in the wee hours of this morning on behalf of Patches, but below is how the first call, which took place just before 1:00am, went.

Me (losing my shit): I need your help! My dog's been panting!

On-Call Vet: Panting?

Me: Yes! She had surgery today and she's been panting, like, a lot.

On-Call Vet: Dogs often pant, sir. It's how they...

Me: I know, but my dog is panting panting and I'm really worried.

On-Call Vet: She probably just has to go to the bathroom, sir. After a procedure like hers it's very com...

Me: I really don't think that's it. I mean, she's extra-special-panting. Like Power Panting™. PUH-ANTING. Something is definitely wrong.

On-Call Vet: Can you please just try the bathroom thing, sir?

Me: Okay fine, but I'm almost positive it's not tha…

On-Call Vet: Hello?

Me: Okay yeah it was that.

An Update on Our Patches Girl

A couple weeks ago our dog doctor found a growth in Patches' back left leg and was like, "Fuck dudes, this ain't cool." and ordered a CT scan which happened today and afterwards, while Patches was still under anesthesia, the surgeon called B and I and said, "I might be able to scoop some of the mass out and save her limb." and then attempted to do that but phoned us back a little while later and said, "Okay, just kidding. The mass isn't coming out cuz it's all up in her muscles 'n shit, but if we cut off her whole entire leg we'll be in the clear." to which B and I were like "Maybe go try harder, please?" and she was like "Whatever, it's your money, bitches." and then she went and tried harder and returned to us with "This could actually be a different kind of tumor than we originally thought and there's a chance it'll respond to radiation which is expensive AF but Patches would get to stay the sassiest betch on four legs." and obvi that sounded good to us so they took some samples of the mass, closed her up, put her on hella drugs and gave her back to us and she can't really walk on her own and she's in a lot of pain and she's been crying a bunch and it's been a somewhat emotional time but she's home and she's alive and we'll figure out the rest later.

They're Called Tripawds

I passed by a three-legged dog on my way home from work yesterday and frightened the owner more than a little bit when I asked, with tears in my eyes, if she had a minute to tell me about him. She shared that his name is Buddy and that he had his front leg removed after getting hit by a car when he was five. He was walking the day after surgery and taking the stairs by himself a short time after that. He's eleven now and sweet as hell and his owner, probably feeling equal parts pity and terror, gave me a website to visit, some Instagram hashtags to search and then passed along her phone number in case I have questions as we enter similar territory with Patches.

I called Bevan the moment Leslie (that's the name of Buddy's person) and I parted ways feeling, for the first time in days, like there was air in my lungs.