Four days, two vet visits, and five hundred dollars later, no one can find anything wrong. The strange walk evolved into a pronounced limp, but the physicals, blood, urine, and pancreas tests, and x-rays haven’t turned up anything. The painkillers and appetite stimulant are helping for the time being, but these are temporary remedies. With any luck, it’s just some sort of random sprain or pulled muscle that’ll heal with a little time. If luck isn’t in our corner here—well, I don’t want to think about that.
It’s so frustrating to see that something is clearly wrong and have no idea what it is or what to do about it. It’s heartening, however, that he seemed to be doing better yesterday, and this trend continues today, although when he tried to jump onto the windowsill, he couldn’t.
And of course it’s a good sign that all of his tests are coming back normal and the vets can’t detect any pain.
Hopefully he’ll sleep it off.
In other news, I used up the last class on my yoga pass today. It was a good class, and I felt better afterward, but this is the last stop on the yoga train for me. No more soft, vacant voices intoning about tuning into your body, no more tortured gasps of bodies contorted into highly improbable positions, no more rooms full of skinny white ladies (for the most part) chanting “Namaste,” no more being thanked by an instructor “for sharing your energy with us today,” no more compostable paper cups of tea, no more focusing on my third eye. From here on out it’s all about embracing a life of noisy futility, as haphazardly navigated by my loud, angry, uptight, screed-prone, and decidedly un-centered, un-grounded self.
With all due respect, of course.
Maybe I should take up kick-boxing instead?
Word count: 41,270
Oh yeah, back in the saddle, kicking, screaming, and alive.
Namaste that!
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