To the Vet's

Tuesday began on a high. Her Highness and I walked with our group, just like normal. And all her feet have healed. Still, I keep the socks on, and I watch her fastidiously. This morning, we go to the vet to see if he still wants to operate. I feel that it’s unnecessary. I think it’s the heat or my absence that threw her and ignited anxiety in her.

Aside from her situation, everything about home and this island makes me blissful. It’s Summer baby! I live for the time between the warm days of spring until about the end of September. I endure all the rest but for the sunny days off the off season. And people from far and wide come here to our islands in the Salish Sea to spend their Summers. Why would I leave?

gardens make it hard to leave in Summer—particularly this Summer of drought. Eight large Sword Ferns came with the house. They and one old Rhodo were the only plantings here when I moved in. They all fell flat onto the ground over the past two days, so I soaked them.

The Ferns have never, ever failed without any watering from me at all, but there’s been 47 days without rain. I must water my Paulownia twice a day. I do it all the watering with pleasure. I love my plants and the yard; they are living things that I brought here. I care about them all. The grass lies dead, flat and golden on the ground, but all my plants are robust.

John arrives today. In 1972, we were both hired to teach at the high school we’d attended together. We never spoke during our school days, but quickly after discovering each other back at school as teachers, we immediately became very good friends. We’ve been in constant touch ever since. He’s a devoted friend.

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I was going to write to Dr. Shoja to talk to her about my Code Blue being psychogenic. But I’ve decided to wait on that. As my heart issue settles, I’m back to living more with people and speaking with them. My speech is still a source of discomfort and embarrassment. Depending on what happens at our vet here today, my next step may be to go to a highly recommended vet who’s as much into the plethora of treatment options besides the conventions of traditional veterinarian practice.

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I got a new ‘gripper’ tool. I use it to pick small things up to avoid having to bend over a million times when, for example, I am picking up the bazillion fallen fir cones and small branches that fill my yard after windstorms. 

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Sheba’s really bad again, and I’m now thinking that the vet is right. There’s something in her right forepaw and she’s chewing all her paws because she can’t get at it. I’m off to the vet’s now, where she’ll be sedated, and a thorough search of her paw will be undertaken. God, I hope he finds the cause.