I think you can see the lump on Sonnyboy’s left front leg. He seems to have sprained his leg. He’s licking his lips because I gave him his pill in a bunch of peanut butter. He’s supposed to be on bedrest and he might have to go to the vet tomorrow. He was limping last night, but this morning, he seemed much better. I took him for his walk and then I thought I would maybe give him a baby aspirin just to ease any lingering pain. But when he got off the couch to get it, he was limping even worse than he was last night.
I called the vet. They agreed that it was probably a sprain and they prescribed him some medicine. Hopefully, it should ease his pain and reduce swelling.
The thing I admire about this dog–the thing that got us into this mess–is that he’s happy to do whatever you want to do. You want to go for a walk? Okay. You doing something in the kitchen that needs company? Okay. Car ride? Okay. And he doesn’t let his own discomfort get in the way. But it’s also stupid because he ended up in a worse mess than he was in.
But here’s the other thing. The Butcher and I were trying to figure out where he was hurt last night and I know I squeezed that area that is swollen today, because it was wet and I suspected he was licking at something that was bothering him. He didn’t even flinch. Like the automatic response you can’t control? He didn’t do it.
It reminded me of back when he’d just put his eyeball right on my foot. I mean, there has to be some reflex that causes you to pull back when you’ve misplaced your damn eyeball onto a foot! But he never did.
I wonder if he’s missing that reflex?
Tiny Cat Pants 