Glinny is resting comfortably though she has a very long row of stitches up her middle that isn't pleasing her much.

She's just been looking at me with these big eyes that say, "Really? Did you have to do this?" And I tell her that she doesn't understand what a huge favor I actually did for her and tell her to relax. She obliges me and falls back to sleep. Apparently she'll be back to her normal self in a day or more, which is good because strangely enough this morning I missed having her bound into my bedroom to lick my face and sprawl her entire body over me to wake up.

Glin got some good gossip on Oprah while she was there. Seems that Glin's vet also is the vet that Oprah takes her dogs, too. Which would explain the bill I got yesterday. My friend said last night, "That must include 'The Oprah tax.'" Honestly. I had no clue that spaying my dog would cost me almost as much as my rent. I about fainted. My insurance will pay for a good chunk of it, but that's only AFTER the fact, which begs the question as to why I have it in the first place. If at some point I STILL have to pony up hundreds of dollars, hundreds of dollars that I don't have, what the heck?

Seriously - I think now I know why some bloggers have asked their readers for money in the past. With the exception of my good friend Rob, I know now it's because they're all dog owners.

Ah well. They're a good vet, the best in town, really, and they just love her to pieces. This isn't a joke. When we got out of the car yesterday morning, and Glin realized where she was, she bounded for the front door with more excitement than she even puts out when she's at my parents' house. She sat right in the doorway of the vet, on a busy stretch of Clark Street, wagging her tail and barking to be let in. Those waiting outside with us remarked that she was only dog they'd ever seen be so stoked to see the vet.

I'm thinking Glinny has other thoughts on the matter now.

Posted by Erin at 07:01 AM | filed under: Glin

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