It was time to visit the Marin vet. Elliot and I left home at 6:30 a.m., and drove to Mill Valley, Elliot lying quietly in the back seat. In Petaluma we hit traffic. I don’t know why I imagined no one would be on the road that early. As we crept along, I began stressing. Elliot was still perfectly happy alternating between stretched out and head hanging out the window. What do dogs know about time?
My eyes shifting from the road to the clock, I estimated my chance of making my 8:30 appointment. It didn’t seem promising. Yet somehow we managed to arrive.
As I struggled with Elliot, the x-rays, and my purse filled with all Elliot’s information, a man approached offering help; I handed him Elliot’s leash and followed him into the clinic where I discovered he was the vet.
I checked in, left Elliot, headed for downtown Mill Valley, ate breakfast and hung out until 3:30, when I was due back at the clinic for a conference with the vet.
When I returned, he ushered me into a back room, set up new x-rays and told me Elliot had spit up something pink, and there were some problems with the sedation. They had to reverse the process. He thought Elliot might have worms. Bummer. What next?
However, as he explained the x-rays, he offered a ray of hope. Elliot’s elbows were inflamed, but he did not believe surgery was necessary. He would give him anti-inflammatory medication and would check him again in 21 days. He also questioned the need for hip surgery. He would confer with my regular vet, with whom I was to check about the worms. He would send the x-rays to a radiologist that evening and get back to me with the results.
I drove home with a lighter heart. There was a glimmer of sun on the horizon.
