My poor Zoey. She’s very upset. Crying at the door. Running back and forth between me and that shut door looking for her brother Marshmallow. He was just taken to the vet by my daughter. They are doing a drive thru vet visit. When she arrives she calls the vet, they come out and pick up Marshy. When he’s done, they’ll bring him back out. Pretty smart in these crazy times.
My Marshy is due for his annual checkup. It might sound silly that I would do this with everything going on but I have my reasons. On April 1, he turn 11. My Boomer died right before his 11th birthday. Marshy has this skin tag that wouldn’t be anything except it keeps growing super fast. This bizarre skin tag then falls off and grows again. I need to know he’s ok. He wasn’t my first dog. He wasn’t my Boomer but Marshy is my dog, always was. He is my shadow and my protector. He doesn’t like it if people get too close to me when I’m in my spots in the house like my chair or my bed. He doesn’t leave the house if I’m not leaving, unless on a leash. He is friendly with other people who come in but after he greets them he always comes running back to me. He’s my boy. He’s my mush. I need to know he’s ok.
My Zoey on the other hand loves everyone but she loves Marshy the most. She has finally left the front door but is still staring
She’ll pounce on him as soon as he gets back. He will run straight to me. Another vet visit done.