It Tastes Like Stabbing

Well. Bear and I certainly had an eventful weekend. We did almost all of our Christmas shopping on Saturday. Then, on Sunday, in an effort to make Bear forget about his stress for a while, I talked him into coming for a walk at Crystal Crescent with me and Marlowe.

"Come on--we'll be gone forty-five minutes, an hour tops. You'll still have lots of time to get your work when we get home."

It was a beautiful day yesterday--all the snow from the day before was melted, and it was really warm. We had fun watching Marlowe play "Dig." It's an easy game--you start digging in the sand, and Marlowe gets excited and helps you dig a hole or six. Afterwards, we decided to walk over to the big rocks past the third beach. Marlowe kept disappearing into the woods. Bear and I sat on the rocks and watched the spray as the waves hit the shore. Marlowe had been gone a while, so I went to look for her so that we could head back. She came bounding out of the bushes and ran along the rocks towards Bear, and I followed her.

"Porcupine!" Bear called.

I looked towards the woods. "Where?"

"Here. In her chin. Marlowe tried kissing a porcupine."

Oh shit. Marlowe had a big prickle-beard. So we sat down on the rocks and Bear held her while I started pulling quills out of Marlowe's chin. There were a lot of them. Before too long, I got a little squeamish, and we traded off. Bear got most of them out before Marlowe started fussing and squirming. The last few quills had worked their way in deep, so we decided to take her home and pull them with pliers. (How the hell do you spell "pliers?" With a y or with an i?)

So, in order to try and keep her from working the quills further in, we carry her as far as we can. Guess what? That little dog is pretty heavy. Also, it turns out that Bear sat on some quills I'd pulled out while he was working on the rest. The stuck into his pants and stabbed his bum while he walked. Finally, we get her back to the truck, and I hold her while Trent drives home. Marlowe, of course, is so relaxed that she falls asleep almost immediately. I guess making new forest friends can really tire you out.

When we get home, though, she won't let us get near her chin. She keeps biting the pliyiyiers. By this time, only the tips of the quills are showing. We look up the emergency vet clinic. It's in Dartmouth. Joy. Everybody back in the truck.

I won't tell you about the long wait, the trip to Tim Horton's to kill time, or the crying guy in the vet's waiting room. Long story short, Marlowe got Surgery #4 (for those who are counting), and the vet removed three porcupine quills from her mouth, and three from under her tongue. Then we got to take our very stoned dog home for the night. She cried until I let her sleep cuddled up next to me on the bed.

The good news is, we'd done most of our Christmas shopping the day before, so if you were expecting a Christmas git from us, you probably won't be disappointed. Oh--and, by the way, we think Ozzy has a bladder infection, so he's at the vet today, too. Trent and I are giving each other healthy pets for Christmas.