Today was a big day for Gizmo the farm dog. He had a rather large (benign) fatty tumor removed from his side. He’s not a fan of trips to town, and this one certainly didn’t win him over. I tried to calm him down as his body shook on the car ride, and got about as much dog hair as a pair of leggings can handle down my right side. Once we got into the vet’s office, he seemed to resolve himself to the process. The surgery went well, but poor Giz is still so out of it, I don’t think he knows what the hell happened. The vet tech said she’d never seen such a large tumor, only connected to the muscle in one small area, and imagined it must have looked like a boob flopping around when he ran. It kind of did. Giz didn’t find these comments amusing and jumped straight up into the car instead of letting the vet help him, because he definitely wasn’t supposed to be jumping. He’s on the road to recovery now and I imagine him taking solace in the pain pills in trying to cope with the fact that he has a plastic cone on his head.



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