Post PantyHose Surgery: Let my count the dollars

When the vet came into the exam room, he asked what was wrong. I pointed to the normally vivacious dog stretched out on the floor not moving and said, “My dog is dying.” He dropped to the floor beside him, took his temperature, and said, “Do you think he may have eaten a foreign substance?” Continue reading Post PantyHose Surgery: Let my count the dollars

How much do I love the Dog? Number 2. Count the dollars?

Each adventure with my Brittany seemed to lead to the next one.  The red plastic that mysteriously exits from the body not having a known place of origin.  The desire to find some smelly deceased creature to sniff and chew on and bring to me as their special gift.   This next ingestion tops the list.  Continue reading How much do I love the Dog? Number 2. Count the dollars?