The Big Giant Head and The Collar of Shame

My schedule lies in ruins, alas. The Big Giant Head, aka Bigfoot, aka that rotten little shit who won't quit shaking his head, had to go to the vet this morning, theoretically to have his sutures from the hematoma surgery removed. Five minute visit, no charge, in and out.

HA!

Because there was still fluid built up in the ear (the same stuff I've been squooshing out all week), Dr. Mark had to drain it with a needle. Then he taped the ear down, and we finished off with an e-collar (Elizabethan, because it's a giant plastic ruff). I made the appointment early, so I could garden the minute it was over, and skipped breakfast to get there on time. Then, of course, we were there longer than I'd planned, when I stopped at BK to grab some OJ I found my last $5 missing, and now not only is it past my comfort level as far as being warm outside, I've got a pulsing low blood sugar headache. All of this because the dog I adore can't keep from shaking his big fat head.



Bleah. Sometimes life just bites you in your big fat ass and you have to deal.