Misdiagnosis

A few weeks ago...in fact, it was July 4th weekend...we smoked a ton of ribs while we were at the lake. Unbeknownst (is that really a word?) to me, M saved the bones for our dog, Belle. He put them in a ziploc and stuck them in the refrigerator. The next day, L'il Man asked if there were any ribs left over. I looked and saw the ziploc bag full of bones and pulled a few out to give to L'il Man. HE asked, seemingly grossed out, "Have those been chewed on??" "No", I replied, that's just the way ribs look when you pull them apart. Sometimes the meat comes off when you pull them apart (it's true!). He says, "Nevermind. I don't want to eat a rib that looks like it's been chewed on." Lucky for him, M walked in about that time and said, "Those are for Belle!"

Now here's where this story really begins. Every day for about a week, I'd give Belle a bone in the morning and one in the afternoon. The same week that I was giving her the bones, M noticed that she was having a hard time walking. He told me to keep an eye on her because he was concerned that she might have "a brain tumor or something." Gulp. I was not prepared for that!

Poor Belle! All of a sudden I felt this instant surge of emotion and guilt as I thought about how much I had neglected her since I started having children. "She's been so sweet with the kids. Always loving and gentle. Just allows them to do whatever they want to with her. she's worn capes, crowns, necklace, hair bows. She's been ridden like a horse, chased with a water hose, given a pink pedicure by a four year old, sprayed with Bath and Body Works strawberry body mist (with glitter).", I thought to myself as I fought back tears. I was determined to make up for my negligence during her last few weeks (or days? who knew). I loved on her, rubbed her belly, scratched behind her ears and under her neck, and gave her even more bones! I told her how special she was and how much I loved her. I thanked her for being the best dog ever!

And then I also noticed that she was having a hard time keeping her legs under her body. They would just kind of slip out from under her when she walked. It was especially noticeable when she would come inside.

Of course M and I didn't say anything to the kids about our suspicions. Thank goodness! It took one of our genius kids to point out while laughing at Belle, "Look at Belle's legs! She can't walk cuz her paws are so greasy from all those bones! Ha ha ha!"

And THAT is exactly what the correct diagnosis was!

Ha!

Thanking God today for sweet, soulful Belle!