They Call It Puppy Love

Today is one of those days that I never want to relive. Unfortunately, it’s going to get worse before it gets better. I’ve been blogging for almost a year and the subject of the Hounds of Basketcaseville have come up time and time again. They are the men of the house. They dote on me when I’m sad. They’re playful when I’m happy. They’re the best companions a single mom could ask for. Every night I sleep soundly knowing that the hounds are always on guard.

Although the liked J-Fed, they took my side in the divorce. In fact, they always took my side. Whenever the Fedster would raise his voice, even if it was in a joking matter, they’d be on him like a fly on… um flypaper. Needless to say, like everybody else, the hounds maintained their place in the household despite the divorce. I would not have had it any other way.

He could take the DVD player. He could take the paintings on the walls. But he was not going to take my dogs. Sadly, somebody, or something, is going to take one of them… and that something is cancer.

One of the hounds became sick while I was on vacation. J-Fed did his duty and took him to the vet. Yet when I returned home, I noticed something still wasn’t right. Back to the vet we went. They attributed his stinky mouth and red eyes to some sort of inflammation. They sent me home with a bagful of drugs and told me to keep them posted.

It was just after a family dinner Monday night when my dad, J-Dog, called me in alarm. Without saying a word, he led my hand to a large lump under my little man’s throat. I went cold all over. I ran to the phone and called the animal hospital to inform them I was coming in. They too thought it was some sort of inflammation.