My husband took two of the dogs (remember we have five) to the vet today. One he was worried about, thinking she had lost weight and wasn't looking so good, and the other was due for his annual shots. Well, my husband just came home with one and not the other.
Before you think the worst, he had to leave one there for an emergency surgery. Not the one he was worried about mind you, but the other one. My little furry firstborn. My beloved, Romeo, who has been with me for almost 10 years now, through thick and thin, and who some of you prayed for back in August. He had a small tumor removed in August. At that same time, there was a tiny second lump on his stomach, but no big deal according to the vet. That little tumor now takes up the entire palm of my hand, and the vet decided it needs to go, and it needs to go now. Um, yeah, I wasn't exactly mentally prepared for my husband to not bring my baby back home.
So I'm asking for prayer again. Yes, for a dog. I don't care if you don't like dogs. I don't care if you don't usually pray. Now would be a great time to change your mind on those two things, though, because my baby goes under the knife first thing tomorrow morning, and we don't get to pick him up until Thursday, so I'm going to be a bit anxious the next two days, and I'm not too proud to ask for prayers for my dog.
As far as the dog my husband was worried about? It's a little bit funny what her problem is. Apparently the vet told my husband that occasionally, when a dog gets a haircut (like she did a month or so again when my husband gave her a short clip), they can actually get embarrassed (no joke) and become a bit down in the dumps over it. Ha! Who knew we had such a diva on our hands? Other than her embarrassment, her health is in tip-top condition.