It's not a toomah

Miss Mena had a dash to the vet today with me and the LGBB.

I had no room for the pram, so had to strap the Lolster on to my front with the good ole Ergo (fantastic carrier, it protects my back like nothing else). We kept butting heads, moreso because she's so tall now and I haven't worked out how to put her on my back on my own, and I was tickled by that baby-fine hair for the hour we were hanging around.

What happened was, I was outside introducing the dogs to the new gardeners (we got new gardeners, the last guy just PFFT up and vanished - my SIL and I have since conjured up all these exotic stories about what could have befallen him: a Congan love interest, a Lotto win, dying alone Bridget Jones-style and being eaten by his Alsatian... most likely verdict is he simply went belly-up like so many garden/horticulture folk this past dry season). I like these people. They're a husband and wife team, look every bit like they'd fit right in at The Seekers comeback concert, it's like having me mum and dad doing the garden for me *one-two-three, awwww*

But I digress.

The woman noticed Jazzus had a rather sizeable lump hanging off the side of her body. It protruded so exaggeratedly I gathered I would have noticed (we saw the dogs last night - we almost have to pencil them in these days, the poor patient ladies - and there was certainly no second doggie growing off her belly then). This thing was the size of a tennis ball and seemed to be just under her skin. Not wanting to take any risks, but hopeful it was a benign growth of some sort because it felt moveable and fluidy, I made a last minute appointment for this afternoon. Lolly's first trip to the vet!

I explained what was going on to the LGBB. She seemed suitably pleased that I was ramming Jazz into the back of the Tardis and was positively hyperventilating by the time we three had wandered across from the supermarket carpark to the vet. Jazz was equally ecstatic to be out and socialising - she really is such a lovely dog - and lapped up (bwahaha) the attention. All the vet nurses go gah-gah for Jazz because she's silly. She joins in to the conversation by standing on hind legs and putting front paws on the counter - last time, it was when the receptionist asked me if I'd like a complementary sweet from the basket. Before I could reply (no), Miss Boofhead had her big clod-hoppers up on the (very high, mind you, but that doesn't stop her) counter, helping herself. She actually got her nose in. I was mortified. The woman behind the desk thought it was hilarious.

So we go in to see the vet. Jazz is so beside herself at the prospect of meeting another new friend (she graciously welcomes people and their animals into the waiting room whenever we're there, as if they're being invited in to her home and she's about to socialise and put canapés on for starters) that she bashes her tail against every solid surface. He checks her over quickly then says he'll go out the back, get a nurse and they'll pierce the lump and drain it *hold onto your dinner, now*

While they were gone, with Lolly looking with a very concerned face at the door through which they left, I explained to her a few times that Jazzy has a bump. She is sore. So she had to come to the doggy doctor ("that's a vet to you and me, Lol") with mummy and Lolly to have a checkup. She listened earnestly. I had no idea if she understood or was just humouring me with her concentratedness.

They came back - we heard Jazz bashing her way down the corridor - she got another dog treat (what are those putrid bits of treats they give them? what part of the animal... no wait, don't tell me, I DON'T wanna know*)

The verdict was, Jazz managed to whack her ribs so hard - which isn't so difficult to imagine, given that the freight train prefers to use her body to stop her when she's running at, well, anything really, full pelt - that she tore a muscle. Ouchies. The resultant fluid was filling in a pocket on her side. They drained it (it's filling up tonight again a little, unfortunately) and said that it should go down over the next few weeks.

Crisis averted. And it only cost $47 this time. I don't think I've ever paid that little at the vet's ever. For any of our dearly beloveds.

The best part of this story, though, was this afternoon when I was trying to distract and amuse (you know, that time of day). I was telling the LGBB that when "Dad gets home, we'll have to tell him we took Jazz to see the vet". And you know what she said? With the most earnest look of understanding on her face? "Cah!" That's right, in the car.

And tonight, I was saying to Steve that the gardeners were telling me about their grandson, same age as the LGBB, running around everywhere and how the woman spent so long giving me advice and tips on how to encourage Lolly to crawl....... then she asked if she was saying any words. As I reeled them off ("go", "cah" for car, "dat doo" for thank you, "Ja-sss" or "Bazz" for Jazz, etc.), she looked surprised and said "Well that's very good then, all our grandson says is mama and dada". Swings and roundabouts then, hey?

And Steve said "Yeah, but I don't think she says clear words. She doesn't understand anything, only in her mutterings does she sometimes say stuff." So with a "You wanna bet?", I said to him that today I had been explaining to her that we had to tell him when he got home what we did with Jazzy today. Without missing a beat, the LGBB (who was being carried to the bath by Steve) turns to him and says "Cah!" and then went on with oh, the most meltingly cute regaling of the days events. She even put on a very "ohhh poor Bazz" expression, looking towards outside. She was SO telling him what happened today. And now Daddy's a believer.

Excitement aplenty.


* I took Lolly to the market on Saturday and was mindlessly wandering over to a stall that had a sign "Kangaroo Paws" - funny, they're usually not called the plural "paws" and .. I don't see any foliage ... oh good LORD, they've cut and dried our national emblem for their pets!!!! Poor Skip.