Um, right - so Jada.
This dog - she's taking years off my life is how much I love this girl.
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| I dare you to not adore me. GO ON TRY IT. |
Because a few weeks ago, right after Bubba took off for a week's trip to London, girlfriend had a majorly bizarre meltdown of the butthole variety that very nearly wiped me from this planet with worrying.
See, if you've followed her exploits over the years, you know that she's basically bulletproof.
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| She backcountry skis. |
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| She hauls 1/3 of her body weight. |
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| She kills and eats every wild thing. |
She's also delightfully predictable and reliable and easy going about pretty much everything.
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| Ride in the car for 2 days to go skiing? This is acceptable with papa scratchins. |
Everything except her butthole. Suddenly. Alarmingly.
See, I came home from work one of these Bubbaless nights with the intention of taking her for a walk and returning to sit my living room couch while a friend regaled me with stories of girlfriend catching up.
Which was SO not to be.
Instead, my night was more like taking her for a walk in which she was all sad and weird and then returning to hover around her while she did not eat but instead her butthole took on the look of a baboon's.
Which, no I did not take a picture. THAT'S HOW WORRIED (and horrified) I WAS. NO PICTURES. ONLY WORRYING.
I ended up taking the baboon to the vet and spending the next two days immersed in 4 alarm WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE DOG, EXPENSIVE SLOW TALKING VET?! mode and ending up with the very best diagnosis an oncology vet can just ever fucking deliver.
Oncology vet without a sense of humor: Jada has an abnormal colon.
Me: So, you're saying it's not cancer?
Oncology vet without a sense of humor: It's not cancer. The very end of her colon is just abnormally shaped.
Me: So, you're saying that her butthole is weird. Canine Abnormal Butthole Disease.
Oncology vet without a sense of humor: It's not a disease. It's just an abnormally shaped colon.
Me: I bet you don't give that diagnosis a lot, huh? "You're dog has a weird butthole, ma'am."
Oncology vet without a sense of humor: It's actually her colon.
Me: I can't believe I've said butthole, like, a hundred times and you haven't laughed once. Come on. This is my coping mechanism. This and drinking.
Oncology vet without a sense of humor: Jada has a weird butthole, yes.
Me: THANK YOU! I need a drink.
Anyway, yeah, the vet really never came all the way around to join me in my coping mechanism humor so I'm just letting it go.
But still - Weird Butthole is the best diagnosis ever. And not just because it's not cancer.
But the real story. Which, surprisingly, is not about weird buttholes or cancer.
Nope...nipples.
As in, Jada was returned to me without any.
Now, I don't know what goes on in super expensive fancy ass oncology veterinarian offices, but nipple shaving off is apparently one of the things.
Again, I don't have pictures, so you're just going to have to take my word for it here, but I'm sure you can imagine my alarm when returning home with my beloved sweet slightly still doped and recently repeatedly ass-probed dog to find, upon belly rubbin's that UM...smooth.
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| Like, imagine this but with a pink bare belly with six red spots ALL SMOOTH. Creepy. |
The hairlessness and pinkness was no surprise. Obviously she has to be shaved before they can do the ultrasound thing to look for cancer in her guts. But the nipplelessness was a surprise.
As were the red spots where her nipples used to be.
THEY SHAVED OFF HER NIPPLES, PEOPLE.
Because apparently her Cleansing Retreat of six enemas, a colonoscopy, a biopsy and ultrasound wasn't enough. They also had to rid her of her pesky dog nipples.
Weird.
It's weird.
But for all of you sweet dog-loving people who have emailed me and Facebook messaged me and texted me - Jada is cancer free and living a life of leisure and homecooked meals.
Seriously. This dog has it fucking made. I'm so worried about her not eating and, thus, sending herself back into Angry Baboon Butthole Let's Go To The Really Expensive Ass Probing Vet land, that I'm basically cooking/preparing/handfuckingcrafting her breakfast and dinner every day.
Making chicken stock in which to cook rice. Shredding chicken to put in said rice. Stockpiling her favorite kibble to mix in the rice. Bubba has been hand choosing the most delicious sounding (and looking - is that wrong?) canned "entrees" to cut with her rice and chicken. Chopping up that Hillshire Farm Sausage looking dog food log thing to mix in with the rice and chicken. Warming it all up so that she gets a good hot meal.
It's so out of control here. I'm certain that we've become those weird pet owners and now I can't judge people who put their dogs on raw food diets and shit because, well, here I am with a slow cooker full of chicken making homemade stock so that she can have her precious delicious chicken rice.
But when I hear the crunching of kibble, it's all worth it.
And phew.
