Dog Day Afternoon

My 12-year-old Lab has an abscessed tooth that must be removed. The operation requires that he have anesthesia, so I’m worried. Jack and I are following each other down to the veterinarian dental specialist, and then he’ll go on to work. I’m up for the early a.m. appointment, take one look at that trusting old dog and start to cry. Get a grip; get a grip, as I sob into my coffee. I can’t imagine him not being here forever, but I know his time with us is becoming limited. Any reminder of this inevitable occurrence crumbles me. When it comes to this pain in the ass old dog, I have no defenses. He jumps up on the bed with me and thumps his tail as he looks trustingly at the person who his taking him to a strange place to leave him for a day. It’s only a tooth, for gosh sakes. He’ll be fine.

Once in the veti-dentinarian’s office, I remain uncharacteristically mute, because if I say anything, I’ll lose it. Jack, however, has already asked for an estimate and is complaining about the cost of it all before the fact. The veti-dent asks us to sign a paper to allow her to do an EKG at $50 more because he’s an old dog and she wants to check before she uses the anesthesia. “His heart is fine!” says Jack. I really don’t mean to paint him with such a brackish brush, but under the saddest circumstances, Jack turns to Jackal. “You must be out of your mind!” I mutter as I sign the waiver.

Out in the parking lot, we continue the conversation.

Me: I can only pray that if something happens to me, David [our son] will protect me from your purely financial decisions.

Jack: That’s ridiculous.

Me: Pull the plug. She’s old and used up anyway! A saline drip? I could make one of those with a baggy, some salt, and tap water!

Jack: Quit comparing yourself to a dog. I’ve got to go to work.

Me: Okay. Be careful.

Jack: You too. Love you.

Me: Love you too.

Later in the afternoon, Max, minus a tooth, is fine for another day, hopefully many more. The veti-dent said he needs root canals on several teeth, but we can just keep an eye on them for now. “A root canal for a damn dog?” says Jack. “No way in hell!” He’s petting Max and making sympathetic sounds. Big fake.