Oonagh’s off to the vet this morning for her first wellness checkup since we’ve had her — her last being a year ago right before we adopted her. We understand she freaks out when there — sounds like major motor city meltdown shakedown — so I am staying home and trusting the houseboy to get the job done right. To be honest, she and I have a rather symbiotic bond and if she’s feeding off any anxiety I may be feeling, and vice versa, it’s a blessing that I don’t go. We’ve been told that the kindest thing to do is have the vet put her under, otherwise muzzle her with a jar of Skippy peanut butter and hope for the best. We’ll see.
