Well, I was feeling fairly upbeat this morning, for late yesterday afternoon I landed a phone interview (for a job that's two hours away, unfortunately--so it's probably another bit of interviewing practice) and woke up with a general feeling of well-being (that I spent about an hour in a church basement last night probably has more than a little to do with that, but I digress).
Then, Linda and I took the dogs for a walk this morning, and when we returned home Shwea jumped out of the car and was bleeding. Well, her paw--the one that was supposedly healed--was bleeding, and while it wasn't bleeding a lot (no geysers, I'm happy to report), it was bleeding enough for me to have to take her back to the vet's this morning.
That's just wrong, people--the Universe just needs to cut this dog a break. Me and my work situation will eventually iron ourselves out, but this paw problem with Shwea--she's my first dog, she's a big bundle of sweetness and fur--has me vexed. For heaven's sake, the dog needs to be able to take a walk without giving blood. Is that asking too much?
I've been to about six vets about this, maybe more, and I'm hoping that the vet we see this morning will be the one to finally get to the bottom of this. Wish us luck!
On other fronts, there's a chance I might get a paying comedy gig soon, but then again, there's a good chance I won't. It's nice to be asked, regardless--just like that job that's two hours away. I probably won't get it, but it gives me all sorts of hope to be interviewed.
We're living on hope, people. Soon, we'll be livin' on a prayer, but that's a shameless lift from my friend Jennifer, so close I must (before I pilfer again!).
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