A spark of doggie hope…

Lola went on a splendid adventure this week and has lived to tell her tale.

The only problem is the activity was not splendid, and it certainly wasn’t an adventure due to its lack of excitement for everyone involved. Lola just used those words because she likes how they sound.

What really occurred was a showdown between Lola and the entire universe.

On Monday Lola and I jauntily walked into the veterinarian’s office for a bit of a rabies vaccine and some cuddles. I wasn’t cuddled, but this story isn’t about me. As Lola was bathing her doctor in the appropriate amounts of bulldog saliva, the appointment took a dark turn – the word biopsy was used.

That word needs to be banished from the face of the earth!

Instantly my stomach dropped and I squeezed Lola hard enough to cause an audible sound from her. Lola instantly went on high alert, prepared to vanquish whatever foe had upset me. The vet explained that while we thought Lola’s hair loss earlier this year was due to a severe seasonal allergies, they hair should be growing back by this point. Not only did she still have a small bald patch on her flank, but two more spots were losing hair for no apparent reason.

What exactly do they do for a biopsy of the skin? I had so many questions, and I was unprepared to really think about things since I thought I was in for a standard appointment. Luckily, Lola’s vet knows how neurotic I am about her health and well-being and immediately sought to soothe me. The biopsy would be small, but sedation was necessary – always a danger with a short snout breed like Lola, but more so because Lola has been sedated in the past and struggled with recovery. In addition to sedation, there would be stitches. Stitches. Not again. The last time Lola had stitches we went through horror trying to prevent Lola from tearing them.

We did not manage to prevent it at all.

I was concerned, but immediately ready to get my baby healthy. So two days later I smashed Lola’s little face into mine and hugged her as hard as I could before sending her into the surgery room. And then I waited, and waited, and waited. Lola did not want to sleep. Yet sleep she did, thanks to some heavy drugs, and the biopsies were done.

Then I spotted a familiar square body coming towards me down the hall.

As Lola walked to me I had to fight the urge to laugh at her. She was drunk. Very, very drunk. Huge pupils, slow waddling walk, and a desperate look on her face – she had stitches in four separate places on both sides of her body! She looked at me with pitiful eyes, she knew that her drunken state and Frankenstein flanks meant that there would be no playtime in the near future.

Yet, there remained a spark of doggie hope, deep down inside Lola’s brindle body.

Christmas is coming and that means she gets to watch Die Hard and Home Alone on repeat for an entire month. Now that is a recovery period she can enjoy, even if her toys have all been hidden!

We have not received any test results yet, but we should hear later this week. I will update you all.

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