Awww! Poor Jazzy. Again!
It’s not enough that she’s 15, hard of hearing, has cataracts (I mean dogeracts) and her back legs are wobbly now. And she has cancer. She’s on meds for seizures, allergies and an underactive thyroid.
Yesterday, she limped a little in the morning so she didn’t get her hour-long run at the dog park that she still loves (and we are hard-pressed to keep up with her). Then around 2:30, I noticed blood running down her leg.
Another $200 later, the vet declares that she has a burst cyst. There’s some difficulty bandaging it because of the location, so they end up bandaging her from toe to shoulder. In purple. I’m calling her the doggie formerly known as Jazz.
Say it with me now: Awww! Poor Jazzy.
Nothing affected her eating, though, and she ate the last of Hobbes’ food this morning while he looked on soulfully.