Grace dances with Mr. D.

Yesterday Grace survived a chance of death that was small but probable enough so that her surgeon and my household could not ignore it.

One drowsy dog late last night

Here is a photo of grace at 10 last night, 12 hours or so after having a "mass" removed from the right side her of head. Before the removal of fur from the side of her head and the insertion of stitches, the vet at The Countryside Animal Hospital administered general  anesthesia. Since Grace is considered an old dog at 11, she stood the average elderly dog's chance of dying of the anesthetic.

But she's also a strong healthy mutt -- her recent senior-screen blood test came back normal,  and she behaves as though she doesn't know that she's old.

Grace had to have the mass removed because if left there it would repeatedly be lacerated and she would be infected. 

The vet tech I consulted with was very somber. After I turned the dog over to her I picked up four cans of Grace's prescription food. The woman at the desk said she would charge me for the food when we retrieved the dog. Although she did not say it, the meaning was, Why pay for something in the morning when you may have no use for it that evening?
 
I drove home more confused and scared than I have been in a long time. I wondered how I would cope with the pain of her loss. I wondered how we inform our six-year-old friend Ava of Grace's death. I imagined that Ava's mother and I may have agreed to have her mother tell her, or perhaps I would have to make a special pre-arranged to tell her. What would her questions be? How would I  answer them?

I fashioned the scarf that Grace, which she got a week ago after a bath at Kim's Dog & Cat
Grooming, into a bracelet, and wore it work. Before I went to work I had already been informed that she had survived, but I needed to express the fact I don't live only to answer stupid questions from customers and smile in the face of their ignorance of or thoughtless disregard for basic etiquette.

Earlier today the dog was sluggish, but she started to pick up steam in the afternoon. She is still enthusiast about eating, greeting the neighbors, cats and Pedro the chinchilla.

The stitches come out in 10 days to two weeks. The lumpy mass will be biopsied; the vet has said it's most likely benign.

I have too much going on with school and the holidays between now and early April, so until then this blog will be dormant.

doghead in motion

Click here to see a doghead in motion...

This photograph of a total eclipse of the sun was taken in 1919 to prove Einstein's general theory of relativity. Reading this summer, in Ann Hagedorn's ``Savage Peace,'' about the attempt by two teams to photograph the eclipse sparked my interest of taking impeded images of the sun. Everyone knows that it is harmful to gaze at the sun, but these pictures allow us to look as long as we want with no harm.
I would look at the sun just long enough to make sure it was centered in the viewfinder. Then I would look away immediately and snap the picture.
I took these pictures in the woods adjacent to Granby Heights, where I walk Grace. You can see the path in the bottom photo. Walking in these woods is not always fun; in the summer it is hot and there are often gnats and mosquitoes. In winter footsteps often sink deep in snow. Hoisting every step up gets tiring.