Late this afternoon, Wiggles had an appointment with Dr. Bain. Yeah, that Dr. Bain (Muffin). But not for that reason. It was essentially a "how can we buy the Wigman more time, in comfort and with a reasonable quality of life"-- that doesn't send me to the nut house early. After much kibitizing, including me doing a spontaneous interpretation of Wiggles walk when his right leg doesn't work, Dr. Bain and I decided to put him on Trazadol, along with his other meds. After my performance, he probably would have liked to give me a little somethin', too, but he didn't. Trazadol is a pain med for his "Arthur-ritis", and along with his other meds, may make him not only more comfy but possibly a tad sedated. Ohhhhhhh, bring it. This constant moaning and mewling is gettin' o-l-d. I gave him one once we got home and he's in there now, barking, so maybe not so much on that sedation I'd hoped for.
But it was what he did on the way over that had me struggling to drive and not wreck my car. Again. When we turned off Skillman onto Mockingbird about a half block from the Vet Clinic, he let out this stuttery groan,
that sounded just like the boys' grandmother. And I'm not saying which grandmother but if you know our family, you know who I'm talking about. The groan just came out of nowhere--- other than he's no dummy and knows exactly when we're near the Vet--but it caught me completely off guard and I nearly drove through a Long John Silver / KFC, trying to make the turn. With Wigman in my lap, he knew he'd made a funny because I was lauging so hard. Sixteen.... and he's still got great comedic timing. He's sooo funny, in fact, he almost got car sick on the way home. But the AC saved him. Whew.
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