The Vet

No one can accuse me of enjoying visiting the doctor.  I come by my anathema to doctors genetically.  But I go.  Yesterday was my check-up, which of course, because I am of an "age," results in myriad other little tests, resulting in spending several hours calling various specialists organizing multiple hours of poking and prodding only to be told I am getting old, but still in good shape.

But the real reason to go to the doctor is to make sure I am here for the girls.  And in talking to the doctor about my unusually low blood pressure (amazing given the daily dose of ugly news these days, eh?), we both decided it was a direct result of the labs.  Lab medicine works!  It's the walks, the snuggles, the ball throws, the giggling I do when I see Annie unintentionally being comical, or my smile when Sage greets me at the bottom of the stairs at 4:35 AM in the morning.  It's hearing Annie's tail bang, like a big drum, against the crate when I walk in the door.  Who can not relax with these two characters?  Or when Murphy was here?  

My vet approves of the lab prescription!

Murphy's day.