The Diva

I usually rise early – even on weekends.  Saturday was no exception.  The routine includes all of the normal stuff geared toward jump starting an old body into motion and taking the dozen or so vitamins and other pills that are supposed to ensure a health-filled, longer life.  For me, mornings also include the ritual of getting Eva (the diva doodle) on her way to a day filled with the stresses that only a doted on dog can fully grasp.

Today, Eva had an appointment with the vet to follow up on an ear infection diagnosed a couple of weeks earlier.  It seems that the longer hair on a labradoodle, while it may be hypoallergenic, is conducive to repetitive and difficult-to-cure ear infections.  So for the last two weeks, Eva and I have endured the twice daily wrestling matches that ensue when I try to insert a small tube deep into each of her ear canals and squeeze out a dime sized dose of medicine.  She resists this fun activity – usually by flipping, jumping and occasionally snapping at the hand that on friendlier occasions feeds her.

For her first trip to the back yard, Eva followed her usual course.  She took care of the necessary doggie business in the usual places and headed back up on the porch where it was time for the first morning rest on the sun-bathed concrete.  I called her in and she joined me while I ate breakfast and drank my coffee.  Through most of this she lays at my feet – not so much an act of adoration as it is a recognition of the fallout that occurs where I eat.  Such morsels are delectable when compared with the fare that comes from the Iams bag.

Back outside for a few minutes before our trip to Lakewood Animal Clinic and a visit with Dr. Silvius.  Of course, it was on this trip to the backyard when Eva decided her mission was to examine a couple slabs of newly laid sod.  When I went to call her in, so we could make the appointment on time, she had the sod upside down and was staring at it as though it was a bird and she the perfect dog on point.  Or perhaps she was examining the underside looking for the instructions that said, “green side up.”  Flipping the sod like a pancake must have also triggered her excavator instinct and usurped all of her behavioral training.

So, with the appointment in twenty minutes and a drive of about ten, Eva ran to the door with her tail proudly wagging, a smile on her face and mud covering her legs and belly.  There was no time for a bath.  Eva believes that rags and towels are primarily meant as tug toys so the process probably looked like the two of us tumbling in a dryer tub.  I got her fairly presentable but, of course, I needed a shower and fresh clothes.

Arriving at the vet’s about ten minutes late, I probably displayed a bit of frustration.  Eva, however, walked in as a diva entering the stage before her adoring fans.  She was greeted with highly pitched baby talk from all of the techs, aides and the receptionist.  “She’s soooo cute!”  “Eva, you’re such a good girl!”  “How did you train her to sit so quietly beside you?”  On and on – I smiled and stifled the growl from my inner dog.

My sympathy for her returned when the doctor put the six inch q-tip into her ear and it seemed there was only a little left showing.  Then we waited for the tests to be run and Eva laid quietly on the exam room floor while several of the staff members glanced in the window and were quite taken with this well-behaved pup.  When the test results came back, her left ear was nearly clear but the right one still had some infection along with some traces of what looked like mud.  So the prescription included two more weeks of medicine plus an ear wash performed twice a week.  Visions of that process danced in my head as I wrote the check and tried to decide what note to put on the memo line – I left it blank.

--td