Saturday it looked like the weekend would be a mix of productive stuff and fun. We did the dogs annual checkup and vaccinations, I hit the library and we went out and bought a king bed. I’m really tired of how small my space has become in the bed: Trixie’s pillow leaves me with little room for my own and working around the dogs usually leaves TYG sleeping maybe an inch away from me. That makes it hard to ignore if she’s tossing, and even when she’s not, it seems to affect my sense of personal space. So hopefully the bed will result in better sleeping without having to go downstairs and crash on the couch.
But after we got back from bed shopping (delivery next weekend) we discovered the dogs were miserable. Plushie was sensitive to even the slightest touch over much of his body, neither of them wanted to go outside. This distressed us both; even though discomfort after shots is normal, this seemed way worse. And inevitably all our focus gravitated to it.
Sunday morning we struggled to get Plush to go down the front steps to pee (Trixie was willing). Normally when he’s sick TYG can carry him, but not when he squeals so painfully. After the vet opened, she called them up. The vet on duty assured her that one of the shots (a new vaccine) is indeed particularly painful, so nothing out of the ordinary. And we got some pain pills for the dogs which made them a lot happier and that made us a lot happier. Still that pretty much wiped out much of what we’d intended to do Sunday. Didn’t watch any movies. Didn’t go bicycling. Didn’t attend one local writing get-together (separate from my regular group). Everything was just too worrisome and draining.
Fortunately by Monday everything was fine and they were ready to snuggle, walk and play with stuffed toys. But next year we’re giving them pain pills before the vaccine.