That tremendously wonderful dog two posts down? He reeks of the smell of flea medicine. Maybe a little too much got on the fur as opposed to the skin; it is hard to access his scalp because his fur is thick. It is not so hard to give him the heartworm medicine anymore because I have finally learned the technique used by our vet: toss it down the throat . . . “I haven’t had a dog choke yet,” he said”

However, now we are trying half a big arthritis pill every morning. He hasn’t choked . . . but he still manages to spit it out. Then I pick it up and try again; sometimes that pill gets quite mushy before it gets to where it is going.

I have tried the hot dog pieces game with little pills. Toss a bite of hot dog; toss a bite of hot dog; toss a bite of hot dog with a little pill in it; have in my hand another bite of hot dog to throw. I throw it and watch as it hits the top of his head when he looks down to spit out the hot dog with pill. Then he eats the one that bounced off the head to the floor.

I get frustrated.

I suppose he does as well.

This morning those of us in the Cafe & Roadhouse were talking about chemotheraphy for animals. I don’t believe I would put a dog through it unless he were quite young, the chemotherapy was “mild” and the statistical chances of it working were very high.

We put Little Ann to sleep when she had a tumor on her jaw. She was old and the tumor came back quickly after it was removed surgically. Further surgery would have been radical and chemotheraphy needed. She was such an indomitable little dog that I couldn’t let her suffer, fighting a battle that could not be won. When she couldn’t get up to go outside to urinate and lay in her urine, I took her in.

The vet looked at her and said, “Little Ann, you’ve been a good and faithful dog.” About a minute later, she had accepted the shot and was gone.

Now, I’ll bet Der Bingle’s friend is sitting somewhere with tears in his eyes . . . she always loved him best.