Click images for desktop size: "Coochy Cooty" by Robert Williams Tests.
Poking and prodding.
They tell me I should be in pain. I tell them I am. Then they stare at me blink and say, "A lot of pain."
I say, "Yeah, a lot of pain."
"You seem to be functioning alright."
I say, "yeah."
And they give me a new pain pill. I wouldn't take the other one. It made me too dopey.
I refuse to feel dopey.
They're not dead certain why I feel this much pain. Its the kind of pain that's all over. Even all my teeth are noticeably looser. Bad pain like only a few other times. They've decided its a combination of circulatory stuff and neuropathic junk.
Stuff and junk, got that?
It was frustrating and painful for me. The tests, I mean.
One thing though. Yesterday a nurse was lying in wait for me. She'd heard that I was the guy who owns the therapy dog with the web site. She asked me if I was, really really was.
I said, "Yeah."
During a break in my tests she took me to meet the kids in her ward. These kids were different than the kids we normally see,more refined, better mannered maybe. More used to getting things they wanted maybe. Still they're just kids.
They asked me all kinds of questions about my puppy. Mainly they couldn't believe that she lives in their town.
I got summoned abruptly. They needed to make more blood flow out of me.
The nurse wanted me to bring my puppy to meet the kids.
I told her I can't drive. She didn't ask me if my license was suspended for DWI, which is he usual question/assumption around here. She offered to pick my puppy and I up and to bring us home. I'm tough and when I feel bad I get too tough. I'll never be tough enough to turn my back on kids. Its my stupidity and I live with it.
Besides, I figure if I keep busy it won't hurt so bad.
And, its true, I'll do anything for a lift.
And while they were showing me the computer they used one of the kids asked me if I really owned my puppy. A little girl answered, "Nobody owns her!"
Smart kid.

The only real difficulty is that they charged me a lot more than I was prepared for. Not a whole lot but enough to bankrupt me. But its paid for - in full. Put that way - in full - it seems an obscenely small amount of money. More than I've got though. I've got plenty of dog food, but not many treats left. Both the foster nor my puppy are going to like that.
I've got 6 meals left. I'll get by somehow.

My co-worker, the one who had the dog that I took care of Memorial Day weekend, is trying to dump the dog. I'm pretty furious about it. He seemed to me like the worse person in the world to care for a dog. He found it in a box by the side of the road. The box had a sign on it that said, "Free Puppies".
She's a good dog but his lack of training and his unwillingness to teach the dog, play with the dog have resulted in a large 6 month old 55 pound hyper ball of energy. She's scared. He's just trying to evade the responsibility he took on.

Click images for desktop size: "Vampi" by Frank Frazetta He tried to dump the dog off on another co-worker. He told her if she didn't take the dog he was just going to dump it at the pound.
I told him that if he did that I would be very disappointed in him.
I've done a lot of thinking and there's no way I can take the dog in - time, money, space. I'm trying to find a suitable home but that's too rare for a problem animal.
I'll keep thinking.

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