Thank you, Robert Burns, for that title. (Or Rabbie Bairns, as one of my coworkers from the Scotland days would have said.)
It’s true: The last few days have brought some not-so-great news with them.
First, Ziggy’s bloodwork results came back. Despite the lump on her side turning out to be benign, some of her bloodwork values are off. This is the third time we’ve seen problems in her bloodwork, which means we are entering the realms of statistical significance… and more expensive testing. The problem as I understand it has to do with her liver enzymes. Apparently black labs (and lab mixes) are known for having temperamental livers, and they can go on for years looking perfectly healthy until, one day, they aren’t. My vet basically said she could have the equivalent of an alcoholic’s liver.
So we are taking Ziggy back to the vet for an ultrasound and liver biopsy in the coming week. The testing is going to run about $850, and then we will re-assess the situation. It may be that Zig will need to go on medication for the rest of her life. J was not happy about the extra expense, but he’s not fighting it. I very much hope this is not going to be the first of many larger vet bills, and I very much hope Ziggy does not become a big point of contention between the two of us.
The other news came to me today in a message on Facebook. The woman we were lined up to rent a townhouse from has decided to sell the place instead. I can’t really be angry at her. We never had a contract, she hasn’t kept us waiting for all that long, and she has her own finances to consider. All the same, it’s depressing. I don’t want to go back to apartment hunting on Craigslist. I don’t want to give up the idea of living in a townhouse. I don’t want to find that the only places in our budget that allow dogs are in other stacked living situations. I don’t want to be dealing with this extra load of uncertainty again. But here we are.
I’m going to do something else right now.