The pup has cancer.

I wish I knew more but

A. We got the newer vet, the one the practice is NOT named after. I don't really like her. She talks way too fast, seems to always be rushed or to have some other very important thing she needs to be doing during the brief moment she spends talking to you. After his surgery she didn't even come out to give us any post op directions, I had questions and the office girl had to run and get her. And even then she came out answered half of it and left while I glanced down at my dog.

B. My husband answered the phone. At best he's only good for being able to relay about half of the information he's heard. But speaking with this vet? Probably a quarter. He said there were alot of numbers/test results etc. She did tell him that they got the whole thing and he said she started talking about some treatment options then told him we'd discuss it on Tuesday when he goes to get his stitches out.

A few nights ago he was walking around and doing this cry/whine/howl thing. I thought he was sick, maybe he'd gotten into something outside or whatever. So he'd whine, I let him out. Ten minutes later he'd bark and I'd let him in. This went on until 1:30 a.m. when my husband took over. Come to find out he was going outside and just standing on the deck or on the lawn next to the deck. Then he'd come to the door and bark to come in.

My diagnosis? Can'tclimbthestairswiththisstupidcollaronand
Iwanttosleeponyourbedroomflooritis.

He wasn't ill. He didn't need to go out. He wasn't even lonely - I was awake and in the living room with him until 1:30 and my husband got out of bed and slept downstairs after that. The dog whined off and on for seven hours because he was bummed out.

Pretty much what I'll be doing today. But quietly.