In which we visit the Vet, who Pokes Dogs With Sharp Things.

Bindu had a 10:30 appointment at the vet clinic this morning, where they poked her with sharp things.

That’s what they do at the vet, you see: poke poor, innocent dogs with sharp things.

Of course, I’ve seen this dog smack herself in the head – say, on a brick building or something – with such force that she should have a concussion, and not even notice, so I don’t know why a little 23-gauge needle would cause her to pant and shiver like her very life force is being sucked out, but I digress.

The doc and I discussed her general health – Is she eating well? (Yup.) any sudden, massive intake of water? (Nope.) problems with stairs or moving around? (Nope.) – and then he gave her a general look-over. She’s in great shape for an old dog. He took a look at her lump, then did a fine-needle biopsy and ran away to view the results under a microscope.

Good news! It’s just a fatty deposit. Not cancer. YAY!

Then he gave her a rabies booster – her last one was in 2003 – so now I can register her and pay the $10 licensing fee and she’ll be a totally legit town dog!

The whole shebang cost a hundred bucks. And on the way home I bought dog food, so now I have five dollars to last me until Friday. But at least I know my dog is healthy and doesn’t have a cyst that will explode and poison her to death.

For a creature who is effectively 65 years old, it’s really impressive that she can jump three times her own damn height.