Today I came home from work at noon and worked from home for the rest of the afternoon. Mercy was due for her shots later this month and I just noticed a day or two ago that one of her teeth is pink. I confronted her about it, but she just ignored me, so I have no idea how that happened. Anyway, we went to the vet this afternoon. And before we went to the vet, both dogs got baths. Spring is definitely in the air judging by the gobs of hair that came off the dogs today. I do not look forward to shedding season (which apparently lasts for 10 months out of the year), but it's a small price to pay for their companionship, I suppose.
On the way to the vet's office I spied a lady carrying a dog in each arm and trying to coax two other dogs out of the middle of the street. I see a little bit of myself in every crazy dog lady I encounter, so I pulled over and attempted to help her reign in the untethered dogs, and we even got a leash on one of them until he broke the collar or something and ran off. It didn't occur to me until later that I had been crawling around in strangers' back yards yelling for random dogs and that I might* have been trespassing. Not that I care, but I bet the people wondered why there were strangers crawling on their hands and knees through their property. We must have been a sight.
After that failed attempt at good citizenship, we went on to the vet who told me that Mercy's tooth is dying. We're trying some antibiotics for the next few weeks to see if that fixes the problem. If it doesn't (and the odds are strongly against it), then she will either need a root canal or a tooth extraction. We will see. Keep your fingers crossed for her. She doesn't seem to be in pain at all at this point, but it's something I'll keep a close eye on.
Butter went along too and got her nails done. She sniffed around and found a stray piece of kibble under the receptionist counter, so she had a pretty good time.
When Mercy's exam was over and I went to get her off the counter she was standing on, the vet asked me how I was going to get her down. I said, "I'm going to pick her up like I did when I put her up on this counter." Apparently you're not supposed to pick up 45 pound dogs and put them on tables. Who knew?
*And by might, I mean that I absolutely was.