I was so busy with Ned drama last week that I forgot to tell you about Tallulah's brush with death. Which was not even remotely a brush with death, maybe more of a comb with death or even a pick with death.
Nevertheless, the other morning I was in here at the computer, as I am wont to be, probably blogging to all you all as I have done for seven years, and really we're into the eighth year, but I took three months off so I'm still calling it seven years and sometimes I really take too long to get to the point.
Tallulah was under my legs, which were under the table, and sure, sometimes she'll venture under me, but it's usually to just bite on of the cats who are on the bookshelf which is ALSO under this table. There's a whole solar system happening under this table. You have no idea.
But that day, she remained under my legs, and after maybe 15 minutes, because I'm an attentive mom that way, I addressed her. Then I looked for a stamp.
"Talu, what you doing under my legs?" And that was all it took. She jumped right on my lap, and she is not what you'd call a Pekingese. Talu on my lap is sort of all you can handle, when it happens.
Damn. I was trying to find an old photo of Talu on my lap, for visual assistance, and could not. But I did find these.
Anyway, the dog was on my lap. And she was shaking. Snapping her fingers. It was awful. She never shakes unless someone turns on an evil microwave, which I never do. I don't even OWN one anymore. I held Lu for a long time, saying, "It's okay, Lu," and she shook anyway.
If she were furniture, she's be shaker. If she were a drink at McDonald's she'd have been a shake. If Lu were a song that day, she'd have been Shook Me All Night Long. You get my drift.
I was loath to leave her, and even considered just taking her to work with me and leaving her in the car, and I could look out at her every so often. I figured that'd make her nervous, though, and she was already shaking, in case I hadn't mentioned it. I made a vet appointment for 3:40. Geez. That's instant. Poor dog.
I left for lunch as soon as I could, and she'd stopped shaking and oh, she'd been smacking her lips too. Smack. Smack. Smack. I can't give it away on 7th Avenue. This town's wearing tatters.
So the shaking had stopped, but she was drooping her head and smack smack smacking. Oh, I felt awful for her. Had she been POISONED? As we know, everything is poison to dogs.
Finally 3:15 got there and I screamed out of work and came home to old Lowhead, over here. She galumphed slowly to the car. She laid on me on the drive, her big pitty head on my lap, making shifting a breeze.
We got to the vet and I'd just like to interrupt my dog's illness to talk about the mastiff/Lab mix who was in Room 2. He was approximately 9 million pounds, and chocolate color, and he was lying on the floor with his giant head down on the tile, looking up at me so sad-like. "He's depressed about being here," said his owner. Oh, that sweet giant doggie. I loved him so.
I lusted for other dogs while mine lay dying, but I did manage to take Lu into Room 3. She got back on my lap.
Till the vet walked in.
"HELLLOOOOOOOOO!" said Lu, like she was Mrs. Doubtfire, leaping off my lap and wriggling over to our vet. Oh, she pranced and waggled and put her damn front paws on the vet because she's well-trained, and she sat pretty for a treat and smiled and got out her one-woman band.
"So, what, um, seems to be wrong with Tallulah?" asked my vet, as Talu threw confetti around the room. I explained her, um, lethargy and shaking and lip-smacking, none of which were happening anymore. The vet took Lu back to that room they take dogs, where you can't see what's happening and they probably just replace your current dog with a new, healthy one.
Awhile later, Lu zoomed back into the room, grinning and prancing and doing some softshoe and ordering a pizza on her cell phone.
"We didn't find anything wrong with her," said the vet. "That will be $147."
As we drive off, I swear I heard Tallulah giggle.