Our favorite little bumble bee, who you may also know as Sophie gave us a bit of a scare a few weeks back.  We took her to the vet to have her looked at and learned that she had an abscess that needed to be surgically removed.

Luckily, I’m not a worrywart at all and I didn’t create awful possibilities of disaster in my head while she was in surgery.  I, queen of serenity, princess of peace managed to stay perfectly calm, and totally zen-like.  I am not like some of those crazy dog owners you see crying on the subway while listening to a song like, oh, I don’t know, Angel by Jack Johnson.  I am not one to cry to lyrics like, “She gives me presents with her presence alone…she gives me kisses on the lips just for coming home”  and think of them in reference to a DOG.  I would not then take earphones out from my ears only to find they were chewed into oblivion from her dog and cry even more.  I mean, really, over a dog?  Pfff. No, not me.  I’m one tough cookie.  Obviously.

….Ok, so I’m a bit of a HUGE worrywart.  I know, shocking proclamation, Maggie.  Really, what will she tell me next?  She just keeps me living on the edge.  I mean, wow.  I know, I know, I just keep on surprising you.  But, I can’t help it, friends.  I began to think about all the times I didn’t play with her when she jumped up to see me because I felt bogged down with work.  I thought about how no matter how long Mr. Hallmark and I are away, whether it’s five minutes or five hours, when we come back through our front door, it’s like she hasn’t seen us in 10 years.  She runs to us as if her life depended on it and licks our faces til her tongue is dry.  Her greetings inevitably warm our hearts and make us feel unbelievably special.  She brings so much joy to our lives and imagining life without her broke my heart.

When we picked her up, Sophie looked up at us, furiously wagging her tail,  seemingly unaware of the surgical invasion to her now missing abscess, and I felt immediately put to ease.  For the next week, we held warm compresses to her butt, had her sleep in our room, and struggled to make her wear one of those terrible cones to keep her from  opening up her wound, despite her looking totally and completely miserable in it.  I felt like a sleep deprived mother, up on the hour, every hour checking to make sure she was okay, waking with every turn and clank of her dog tags.  How do real Mothers do it?  Night after night, week after week, month after month?  And this was just for our dog, our little bumble bee, who, to us, brings more love and joy to our lives than we could possibly deserve.

Signed,

One admittedly crazed dog obsessed – I mean, loving owner.