Sick, sad, puppy

Last Friday, I am took Nessie into Detroit to LaFond Veterinary Hospital for her to get her top left molar removed.

She has had bad breath for a while so last week I did the old 'grab a toothbrush and try to brush the dog's teeth' maneuver.

Between A and I, when it comes to brushing the dog's teeth, she only lets me do so and when I say 'do' I mean that I have to sit on her while trying to do so.

When I was brushing this time she was extremely sensitive when I was brushing around her molars, I noticed blood on the brush and she yelped. So taking a closer look I noticed that her molar was split in half and it was a greenish-grey color. Expanding upon my vast biology background (me hurting myself and going to the hospital) I realized that was not a good thing.

So I took her into the Vet's last Monday and my worst fears were realized. She is going to need it removed. The doc is great, he's the one we first brought Nessie to when we got her and she really likes him.

She is now playing with her squeaky ball and running around like the old dog of yore...
I think that she is feeling better, and that the stink was messing up her sniffer. Cause now when we go on walks all she wants to do is smell *everything*!!
Oh well, she's better and life is good in Ann Arbor - sunny and 60!

I am reluctantly coming to the conclusion that Nessie is my kid. This is kind of weird, and I really hope that I don't become one of those old crazy pet people who dress up their animals and convince themselves that the dog/cat/bird is really a child.

Well enough of this.

See you on the flip side!