Tuesday, October 23, 2012

still-sound 117. Cone

Uh oh.  Look who's in a cone.

She's not anymore though.

Some time during the summer, Rob came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth to find Rosie's face grotesquely swollen.  Within a few minutes they were at the vet's and she was injected with steroids and benadryl and placed in an oxygen tent.  Little dogs with squooshed up faces can quickly die from a bee sting. 

This wasn't the first time.  A few years ago in Long Beach, Rosie was 'helping me' in the garden.  She found a lazy bee hovering close to the ground and ate it.

The cone was to protect her eyes.  The irritation from the sting made her scratch her face with such a ferocity that she, at some point, grazed her cornea.  She recovered after a couple of weeks.

Last night I meditated before going to bed.  Rosie hopped on to the cushion and settled on the sliver behind me.  She leaned her warm weight against the small of my back and didn't make a sound.

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