"A touch of heartworm"

This weekend we brought both our dogs to the vet, as they were in need of vaccinations and a checkup. I've never brought both dogs to the vet at the same time before on my own because I knew it would be ludicrous to do so. Mina, our small dog, generally hates the vet's office, and all places where there are strange people and animals, especially strange people who hold her body down while prodding her with needles while saying things like, "She doesn't like this, huh?" and laughing.

Our big pitbull mix, Cecilia, on the other hand, would gladly allow the vet to amputate her leg without anethesia, all the while thumping her tail happily against the floor if it means she is being touched and, therefore, loved.

They are opposite personalities in a major way and this makes them a good, and funny team, but also makes it hard to do things with them at the same time, like go for a walk, or sit in a busy waiting room.

So when I made the appointment, I informed J that he'd be coming along for the ride because there was no way I was taking those two on my own. He's never been to the vet with our dogs before - my schedule in North Carolina was much more flexible so I always took them - and I assured him it would make for an interesting afternoon.

We had, as predicted, an eventful visit, which included the dogs whining nonstop once they realized there were cats in cages (they were up for adoption) right there, just feet away from where we were sitting, as well as their normal peformances once we got into the examination room: Mina stiffened her body completely, like a dense little rock, and Cecila, after greeting everyone with an enthusiastic full-body licking, laid down on the floor, her mouth open, her tongue hanging out, her legs spread.

The only surprise we got was when the doctor told us that the blood test results revealed that Cecilia has Lyme disease. It's extremely prevalent up here, so it can be a major problem for dogs - and people, too, of course.

The good news is she hasn't gotten sick. Lyme disease can lead to major complications in dogs, including renal failure and joint pain, but it looks like they caught it in time because it hasn't affected her at all, and after taking medicine for 30 days she should recover just fine. So it's not really a big deal.

When telling my mother about Cecilia's diagnosis later on that day she interupted me, saying "Guess what? Lucy has it too." Lucy, my parent's Labradoodle, and Cecilia are pretty much in love so it seemed fitting that they should get the same disease at the same time. Lucy, thankfully, is symptom-free and now being medicated, too.

The thing is that it took my mother a little while to figure out what was going on with Lucy because my father took her to the vet. And when he got home, he said that she had "a touch of heartworm."

Now, I don't know much about veterinary medicine, but I'm pretty sure saying a dog has "a touch of heartworm" is like saying a person has "a touch of diabetes" or something. "A touch of Alzheimer's." You have it, or you don't.

Also, "heartworm" and "Lyme disease," at least to my ear, sound pretty different.

I have no doubt my father was most likely checking his Blackberry, or thinking hard about that nap he was going to take when he got home, when the vet told him the news. It's ok, though. He loves the dogs in his own way, throwing them little salami and cheese sandwiches from the plate of snacks the humans are eating when we have guests over. But that's love, all the same. It's why the dogs sit at his feet, looking up at him adoringly. It's why they come running as fast as they can when he calls.

Seriously, where did we move? The North Pole?

When we let people know that we’d be moving to New Haven, we got some form of the sarcastic “Just in time for winter!” line from nearly everybody. “New Haven? Well, you’ll be there just in time for winter!” This was sort of fun at first, and quickly got old. I got to the point where I’d let people know—right away—that I went to school in Boston. I could handle it.

So we got up here, just in time for winter, and I happily wore my down coat, hat and gloves, protecting myself against the bitter cold and hoping for snow (I love snow).

And then, after what seemed like way, way too many weeks of the bitter cold, I started wondering when spring would come. I started voicing my feelings aloud. “Man, I’d love to ditch this coat! I’d love a warm day!” And as March grew to a close I actually started getting angry. Come on, I thought, in like a lion, out like a LAMB?

J and I talked about how while we’d both experienced the climate of the northeast before, but our years in North Carolina had obviously altered our perception of it. It gets warmer so much later here. And just when it does start to get warm, nature changes its course and throws a few more cold days right in your face. So you don’t get too comfortable.

Despite the fact that I’m still wearing a coat when I head to work in the morning, last week saw the first really warm days so far this spring. Days where I could take the coat off when walking to get lunch, letting the sun touch my shoulders.

As I was headed to Grand Central Friday afternoon, I took a good look around and noticed that people were in a really good mood, and not only because it was the end of the work week. They were talking on their cell phones, making plans with friends. They were gathered in bars, drinking cold beers. The windows were open, ensuring no one missed out on the springtime weather, and you got the feeling everyone had been there for a while, had maybe knocked off work at 3 or 4.

I couldn’t help joining in the giddy excitement of it all, if just for the moment. I mean, I’m not dumb—I’ve been burned before and learned my lesson—I knew perfectly well that the next morning would bring a damp chill, and I’d be all set to go for a morning walk in my shorts and t-shirt only to have to go inside and change into long pants and a sweatshirt. And yeah, that’s what happened. I do have faith that we’re getting there, though. Soon I’ll put the coat in the coat closet, and I won’t even look back.