Back To The Vet

Lucy's shots were due yesterday so we went up today.  As I wrote a check a young woman who was assiting the vet with Lucy (To prevent her from biting him--Lucy--not the young woman.  Of course the woman was not going to bite Dr. Gosney, that's ridiculous!) asked me if I had been in very recently.  "Um, yeah," I answered.

It was obvious she was remembering me for something but couldn't place it.  She asked me which dog I had brought in.

"Prissy," I replied.  "A white and brown Chihuahua with back problems."  The look on her face said she got it suddenly.  I felt tears springing up from behind my eyeballs, my voice began to crack as I spoke.  "It's a little too recent for me to talk about it, actually," I said.

She said she was sorry, I said that was OK.  The woman at the computer sympathetically asked how long we'd had Prissy and we all chatted briefly.  The young woman who assited earlier asked how I was doing.  "OK for most of the day but I have my moments."

It was really taking every ounce of energy in my body to keep from bawling right there over the counter.  From here, I may try to trickle off all this dog and Shawn business.  To go into a normal direction, I may go back to writing about how I hate my body, how I love food and how I hate what it does to me.

There.  That should take us in a more cheerful direction.