Tam Lin, aka my Tim-Tam-Tommy-O, was a super good dog yesterday, which also happened to be his 16-month-old day. I told him I was going to blog about how wonderful he was, and he said, more or less, “About time! The last time you blogged about me it was because I ran into your head.”
“Well, you did run into my head, and gave me one helluva shiner,” I retorted, a little guiltily, I must admit.
“Your head was on the ground,” he pointed out.
If you need to win all your arguments, don’t argue with a malamute. Besides, the only remaining trace of our collision last month is a little scar under my left eyebrow, and Tam really was a good dog yesterday.
Tam’s annual checkup was scheduled for yesterday morning. He’s been good on previous vet visits, but COVID-19 has altered my vet’s usual practice: owners can’t come in with their pets. (Her office and surgery are in her home.) Tam has separation anxiety, and as we drove into the little parking area, I was having separation anxiety, like was Tam going to have a meltdown once I was out of sight?
I followed the protocol: don my mask while in the car, leash Tam, take him over to the stair post, hook him to the pink leash tied there, unhook his own leash, and withdraw to at least six feet away. When the vet tech came out, Tam looked over at me, then he went into the building with her. I went back to my car to wait, phone lying on the seat beside me, me hoping that it wouldn’t ring with news that Tam was going nuts.
It didn’t. When it rang, it was my vet reporting that Tam had been a good boy but that he’d tested positive for both Lyme and anaplasmosis, another tick-borne disease. This being Martha’s Vineyard, I was not surprised. Treatment is the same for both, so Tam is on doxycycline for the next 30 days. I’m happy to report that the 120 capsules I got from my vet were a lot cheaper than the doxy I got from the pharmacy the last time I needed it for myself. Tam disappears the capsules — two with breakfast, two with supper — along with his food. The peanut butter definitely helps.
My writers’ group was scheduled to meet at 2 in the afternoon. In pre-COVID days, we met indoors on Sunday evenings, and Tam often came along. These days we’re meeting outside on Monday afternoons, and since there are hens, ducks, guineas, and occasionally turkeys wandering about, Tam has to stay home. He gets vocal when I’m gone, and when I was working the polls on town election day in June, a summer neighbor called my neighbor-landlady to complain about the howling so I had to go home an hour before my shift ended. Now I do understand that an intermittently howling dog can be annoying, but this particular summer neighbor’s place is the source of almost continual landscaping (etc.) noise when he’s not in residence, and I can’t recall anyone else in the neighborhood setting off fireworks and making whoopee in the middle of the night.
Anyhow, I’ve skipped several events I should have attended in order to avoid antagonizing this neighbor, but I was determined to attend my writers’ group meeting; I’d missed the last two owing to looming deadlines. Usually when I go out I leave Tam in his crate, but this time I decided to let him loose in the apartment. In hot weather he likes to sleep at the foot of the inside stairs, where it’s coolest. I closed the windows and door to block as much sound as possible and left Tam inside with his Kong Wobbler and a peanut butter bone.
I also took my phone with me and asked my neighbor-landlady to call if summer neighbor raised a ruckus. If Tam did whine or howl, it wasn’t enough to bother summer neighbor, and when I got home the apartment was just the way I left it.
All the above is to prove to Tam that I blog about him when he’s good as well as when he collides with my head.