A rough couple of weeks for the old man, resulting in an emergency vet visit the day before his 12th birthday, a visit to a canine neurologist a couple of days later, and many specters we shall not name raised in the process.
Thankfully, many of those specters have already been laid to rest, and the neurologist thinks our conversation about Gilly probably has less to do with imminent laying to rest than with steroids and physical therapy. But it’s been a grueling stretch, here, for the familiar and me.
There are still unanswered questions, but we have a clear and strong plan from great vets, and we’re following it.
Meanwhile, his heart and spirit are just fine, even if his spine isn’t, so the hovering is really just starting to annoy him. Ferdogssake, woman, he says. I’ve been going up and down stairs for 12 years. Stop patronizing me. Then he falls, so I hover some more.
He forgives me, because I have pizza.