I remembered it was Wednesday yesterday, I really did. Several times, I remembered. I didn't do anything about it, though and that's the problem.
The dog went to the vet again on Tuesday. He got more shots. He was a lot better than before and so was the staff, mostly, or perhaps it's only that I stayed in the waiting room and didn't have to watch any slip ups, though I was told about them later. I'm preeeetty sure an antibiotic isn't a steroid, at least that's my impression.
While I was sitting in the waiting room, I began to think of Bubbles, the King Charles Spaniel.
The water in the scuffed silvery bowl was yellow. Bubbles didn't even bother to sniff it. He wasn't going to drink it. He was in a cage that smelled nosebitingly strong of anticeptic. He scowled and settled grudgingly on the thin pink blanket folded once that he'd been given, though it did nothing for the chill. This place was terrible. His round eyes had begun to dry out the moment he'd been shoved in the cage, stinging from the antiseptic. He put his tiny chin on his paws and whuffed, his gaze wandering. It settled on the food bowl. It was also a scuffed silver and contained what he could only assume was card board. It smelled enough like it.
There we are. Just a short bit, but something, none the less, and two days after Wednesday. I've been tired. I'll pick up the slack.