She is not the ideal dog - dog selective, stubborn, intense, a little confusing, a Pit Bull in a world that doesn't love them so much.
She is the ideal dog - people focused, devoted, an avid snuggler and kisser, adorably adorable, a Pit Bull who is surprisingly well-loved by almost all who meet her.
I love her dearly. Perhaps too much, some might say. Pish-posh I say to them. My heart is capable of expanding, even painfully so, for those I love too much.
For a few days, Mina has had bad diarrhea and an upset tummy. Then she started vomiting and acting lethargic. I started to panic, thinking obstruction or pancreatitis or the big C. That is how I roll when it comes to Mina, and it is most unhelpful.
I haven't had time to find a local vet who does not freak out when I say "she's on a home-made diet". So I drove the hour and a half to the vet who has seen her for the past four years. She gets to the vet and is perky, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
I decided against radiographs and bloodwork because, well I'll be honest, an $80 bill is a lot more appealing than a $400.
Instead, Mina got an anti-nausea injection and some metra-something-or-other for her rear end.
She's feeling a lot better. She is holding her food down. No poop yet, but there is hope.
Mina has me wrapped around her little white-socked paws. I do not begrudge her this. She lets me dress her up in clothes and jingly objects. 'Nuff said, really.