Meet Buddy Lee. He is our Boxer mix and my baby who can do no wrong. Every summer Buddy Lee gets his Summer Buzz (at least one of us gets to have a buzz right now) where we take him to get shaved so he sheds less and doesn't get so hot in this god awful summer heat. About a month ago I noticed that Buddy Lee is shaking during the day and night, and of course being the optimistic person that I am, I automatically conclude that he has a terminal life-threatening neurological disease and has 6 months to live (I know, motherhood is going to be a doozy for me, huh?) So I call the vet, tell them that he is shaking and give him my assessment of the neurological auto-immune disease that I have diagnosed him with, and expect him to concur. He tells me to bring him in for a closer look. So I give Buddy Lee a silent final fairwell and hold back my tears as we walk the Green Mile to the Vet's office, I can see the sadness and fear in Buddy's eyes as I tell him what a good dog he has been and how much we have loved him. We get inside the office and I brace myself (and Buddy Lee) as we receive the dreaded diagnosis from the Doctor: Hypothermia (ok, maybe I am paraphrasing- i.e. exaggerating). Wait. What?
As it turns out, I have literally been freezing my dog to death in the MIDDLE OF SUMMER. The Vet gives me and my belly a smirk while he gives me the prescription of "not keeping my house the temperature of a meat locker, then maybe he will stop shaking- from being so cold." Smartass. Buddy Lee then gives me an exasperated look as if to say, "Listen you crazy white lady. It's friggin' cold in that walk-in freezer you call a house, take a hint and give a dog a blanket!"
Well played, Buddy Lee, well played.