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Nova Speaks

Posted by: | November 13, 2008 | No Comment |

Oh geeze, Mom. Sometimes I wish you would just take a chill-pill. You worry sooooo much. I know, I complain, but you know how much I appreciate it when you DO worry. If it weren’t for your worrying when my eyeball hurt so bad, we might not have caught the glacoma in time to save the sight in my other eye. And when my stomach twisted in the middle of the night, you worried and drove me an hour to the emergency clinic for an emergency stomach tack in the middle of the night. You even held me in your lap (all 125 lbs of me) just like I wanted, because I was scared of the stomach tack surgery and a doctor I didn’t know. Thanks also for worrying when you saw that big lump above my wrist back before Halloween. Because of that, I think I have a much better chance at living a pain-free, healthy life. I couldn’t do it without you.

I am so happy that Tammy offered to care for me while you are gone to Arizona. I like Cliff at the kennel, but I think Tammy really is a better choice. I know she will take excellent care of me and that she loves big dogs. I can’t wait to sniff everything at her house and get some lovin’ from her kids. Hopefully her big dog Annie won’t mind me getting all the attention. This 3-legged thing REALLY gets a lot of attention (I love every minute of it). What I like best is that Tammy is a worrywart, just like you. In fact, remember she asked why I was limping at the Swartz Creek meet back in early October? She noticed my problem before you did! (Ha ha)

I think you just need to relax a little and let me get through the next few days. Losing a leg is a big deal. It hurts. I need some time to, well, find my sea legs (or tripawd legs), if you will. And this pain medication makes me feel like, well, total crap. Remember when you had those wisdom teeth out, and that codeine had you feeling all weird, having strange dreams, and seeing little green aliens on your pillow? Well it’s not any easier for me with this Morphine and Tramadol.

Hey, one more thing. What’s the big idea posting pictures of my swollen feet? Come on, can’t a girl get a little bloated every once in awhile without having pictures plastered all over the Internet? Did you see me posting pictures of you when you couldn’t squeeze your fat butt into those jeans last week because you ate all those potato chips?

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