Sophie’s story part II

Sophie, 12 weeks old
The day we brought her home.
Tonight, the cottage is quietand a bit lonely. Sophie is spending the night in the hospital. She had takenlately, with the warmer weather, to lying on the patio until late at night whenI enticed her inside with a bit of cheese so I could go to bed. During theevening, she’d come in from time to time to get a drink of water and, I hope,to see that I was where she thought I ought to be, but it was not as though wespent the evening chatting. Still, I miss knowing she out there, and I may evenmiss her demand for breakfast at seven in the morning.

She is in a specialty clinic,not your neighborhood vet (think big dollars), but the doctor who saved herlife is one of my favorite people. She needs his spot-on knowledge. He calledtonight to say that she’s still pretty rough. This morning he reported that herdiabetes was out of control, her blood sugar ridiculously high, and she hadopened the old wound (once a bed sore) on her front elbow. (I’d caught herlicking that now and again but she stopped when I told her to.) Tonight he saysthe sugar numbers are much better, so I will wait for a morning report.

I like to say this allhappened so fast—the first clear sign was yesterday morning when she didn’t eather breakfast. But in retrospect, I know there were small signs—another time I’llbe more alert to them. She, who is always ravenous, turned down her dry kibblethough she kept eating the canned food. And if I poured broth over the kibble,she’d eat it. But that quit yesterday. We caught her chewing nonedible things.And both last night and this morning she disappeared into the far reaches ofthe back yard where I cannot see her and cannot follow with my walker. I’ve hadexperience before with a dog who went off to die, so that freaked me out. Infact yesterday in the wee morning hours I called Christian but just then shepoked her head around into the door, and I hit disconnect quickly. But lastnight and this morning Jordan and Christian had to go get her and carry her backto the cottage.

So tonight I am feeling sorryfor myself. Jordan and Christian have gone to a friend’s b’day dinner at Don Artemio’s,the relatively new, upscale restaurant featuring the food of northeasternMexico—think Saltillo and San Miguel, also think nopales, cabrito, tacos deLengua (tongue tacos and my favorite on the menu). Don Artemio’s was a finalistfor the best new restaurant in the James Beard Awards for 2023. I suggestedjokingly Jordan order the cabrito, because that’s what I want the next time Idine there. I knew she’d frown, and I bet she orders a steak because that’swhat she likes and what she is comfortable with. Me? I want to try new things,as long as they are not too spicy.

But more than feeling sorryfor myself, I am feeling sorry for Sophie. I know she thinks we’ve abandonedher. She hates the clinic, and we all know when you feel bad, you want to behome, not in some sterile place. Fingers crossed, prayers said that she cancome home tomorrow.

Tonight Mary came for happyhour. She is to do a two-part cooking class on Helen Corbitt for the Silver Frogs(non-credit, community classes from TCU for an older audience, a truly vitalprogram.) Mary cooks from her kitchen via a Zoom-like arrangement, and for the Corbittprogram she plans to have me chime in with my research into Corbitt’s career.So she showed us the treasures she’d bought for the demonstration—a Hollandaisesauce mix, chutney, flower pots for the cakes Corbitt made for LadyBird, etc.,and the Power Point presentation she’d put together. I declined to do thatbecause I have no idea about Power Point. It was fun to talk about Corbitt, andI enjoyed the hour. Then Mary and Jordan rushed off and I ate leftover meatloaf and a small green salad.

But I’ve got great cookingplans coming up—only to be told Jordan wants a b’day dinner of tacos Saturdaynight. I have a recipe for chicken tacos I might try to talk her into, but I amnot hopeful.

Pray for Soph, please. I hope tomorrowI can report she’s safely home.