Lola was sick all night last night, so I didn’t get much sleep and at 8:30 this morning I finally got through to the vet and got her the earliest appointment to come in, at quarter to eleven. Then I sat up drinking cups of coffee and checking on her often to make sure she was ok.
I’m sure you don’t want to hear this, MySpace friends, but she had diaharrea and was bleeding from her bumhole. And because of this she smells really bad, so Dave suggested that we keep her on the balcony.
The one downfall to having a pet is that you can’t take their fuzzy little faces in your hands and look them deep in the eyes and explain to them in words why things are the way they are. Why does her bum bleed? Why can’t she stop going poo? Why is it runny? Why doesn’t she feel good? Why can’t she come inside? Why is the vet putting that thermometer in her bumhole? It’s heartbreaking, because you know that it is for the better, but to her, it might as well be a 3 by 10 foot prison cell.

All she needs is a little tin cup to rattle the bars.
But fret not, MySpace. She is on the road to recovery. She has medicine and cream that I have to wipe all over her runny, bloody asshole.
But this is my dog, and I love her more than anything, so I will do anything to make her well again. If it would make her better, I would put her on a diet of Grade A Prime American RibEye Beef, cooked to medium rare perfection, caviar, and rice that costs 3 euros per grain. I would fill her water bowl with Cristal champagne if it would help. No expenses spared.
Comments from MySpace:
Glinda the Good Witch of the North![]() |
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[...] Three Years Ago: Lola was sick. And the word “crunk” was pissing me off. Possibly related posts: (automatically [...]