have y’all seen my dog?
if not he was my act of mad science, so with the whispers of a doctor to give him a badass name and a halo over his head for luck. because when he was admitted he was in o2, on 7.5% dextrose, and pressors…
i dubbed him cerberus the guardian of hell in that icu that night, my war torn tartarus — covered in my own sweat and blood.
his blood work was trash but he ate, he breathed, fever broke and he came out of o2. the eating allowed us to wean him off the dextrose.
this dog crossed every plane to come home with me, and I said yes under the guise of ‘fostering’. needless, to say i lied, he was my dog.
he lived. my failed three headed guardian of hell thrived even.
he turns 4 this year, and my act of mad science is this, not really a guardian of anything — more like a jim henson muppet. sometimes even as i call this muppet his nickname rather than cerberus, i gotta remember why he has that badass name
( toombs in my ear saying it’ll make him live, a halo in highlighter around his head for luck too, another tech whispers i have to check on him every seven minutes, and we as veterinary professionals are a superstitious lot - almost with an almanac in hands, but it’s plumbs and I look over it again. i do these things and more like walk clockwise around my icu to keep him alive and with me )
i remember this muppet looked death in the face and laughed.
