Wally the Wonderdog – sensing I might actually slip out of town without undue hassle – cleverly engineered what appears to be a nasty spider/scorpion/somenastyinsect bite on his hip.
It’s probably the byproduct of our Thursday small stream bushwhack, and the Wonderdog has basically worried the affected area completely bald (an area the size of a small fly reel). So despite the fact I should have been on the road, it was off to the vet for us.
There the Wonderdog distinguished himself by not requiring any sedation or anesthesia while the vet did some frankly horrifying things to him.
Thankfully, the house/Wonderdog/cat sitter is reliable; he’ll make sure the Wonderdog get his meds, and will get him back to the vet if this thing goes off the rails (if it’s a brown recluse bite, things could get messy).
A while ago I wrote that animals and kids wait for the weekend to get sick, intuitively aware that care is hard to find and way, way more expensive.
In this case, the Wonderdog’s timing couldn’t have been worse – a fact he’s no doubt sniggering about right now.
The Vacation Cometh
I won’t suggest I’ve undergone vast amounts of suffering these past months, but I’m still willing to enthusiastically embrace the concept of a weeklong vacation in a quiet corner of Maine.
I’m traveling light, and bringing damned little fishing gear. At the camp, I know there’s a 7.5′ 6wt Heddon glass rod, and a handful of spinning rods (ideal for throwing topwater plugs in the evenings).
At the camp, I’ll also find large quantities of peace and quiet – a commodity more valuable than fly fishing gear.
There likely won’t be an Internet connection at camp, though there is a chance for a connection via my smartphone. In other words, you may hear from me or you may not.
And – as always – stand by for reports on the Underground’s always complex travel adventures.
If it involves an airplane and a ticket with my name on it, there’s almost sure to be a delay involved.
See you on a red-eye (with two followup connecting flights), Tom Chandler.
Dang, this hasn’t been the best seven years for Wally.
A bet a week free of this blueline trout folly will do him a world of good.
Don(Quote)
Wally, poor dog!
Check this about the spider – http://spiders.ucr.edu/myth.html
I sure hope it’s not something terrible. Dogspeed, and get better soon!
Frank(Quote)
Just spraypaint over the hairless area, he’ll be good as new.
KBarton10(Quote)
Dogs never forgive you for throwing out left over pizza bones, those left over chunks of pizza crusts. And now Wally is pissed. I must say he must have been out of less extreme alternatives to exact a little payback.
I hope you closed the closet door that holds all your old rods before you left because this is serious, some side effects of antibiotics may increase certain mental anxieties. Wally may now be lying in front of that rod closet at this very moment, his red eyes rolling around in the sockets while converting those rods into Wonderdog chew sticks.
Wally, I feel for ya buddy. Brush up on your bug identification while your healing up and save the bamboo rod for toothpicks.
WM(Quote)
But the wonderdog actually gets most pizza bones. Nothing left for him to get pissed about.
Tom Chandler(Quote)
I see. Is it possible that KBarton promised him a day of degenerate indulgence into the world of brownlining in exchange for a little last minute ruse?
I’m glad to hear that Wally gets the pizza bones, they create a bond tighter than milk bones ever will.
WM(Quote)