First Visit to the Vet.

As usual, I have to begin with one of those Edith-before-Michael stories. We never had any pets at home. My mom's dad had every imaginable pet on the land: at the ranch there were hens and chickens, goats, cows, pigs, horses, etc.; at home there were several dogs, cats and even goats. He also kept the local professional soccer team's mascot, a lion. He sadly had to give it away to a passing circus at my grandma's insistence after the lion ate a goat. My mom had more than her share of keeping up pets and other animals around the house. My parents decided that having pets was not a good idea. Except for the period when my brother kept in his room a pet turtle, there were not pets in my house. Many of our friends had dogs and we would play a bit with them. I always kept my distance. I would never harm a cat or a dog as I would never pet it to begin with -with very few exceptions. At my friend Laura's ranch, I held a 1-week-old lion cub. My friend Brenda would leave gloves so I could play and pet Marisol whenever I cat-sat.

Ginger came with the boyfriend. "It's a package deal" if I recall correctly, what you-know-who told me. Getting to know, getting used to, and being around a dog has been an experience. Ginger, our dog, is very sweet and very intelligent. My co-workers almost fainted one day when I came in with Ginger when I brought her to the office so they could meet her. The next marker was when Michael and Ginger moved in with me. The next, was when we installed the dogie door in the kitchen so that she could go in and out to the back yard.
Ginger is bright, she cannot talk but she understands what we say. You can ask her if she wants a treat and she wags her tail. She especially understands when we say " hey Ginger do you want to take a bath?" She can make it to the backyard in record time!
About two weeks ago Ginger started acting strange. By the odd behavior and after observing her, we knew that she was sick. The next marker was when I had to take her to the vet. First time ever in a vet's clinic, for Edith not Ginger! I have no idea of how this things work. So I walked in and ask for a vet to examine her.
After filling up the paperwork we go in, an a "nurse" comes in and asks the basic questions about the ailment that brought us to the clinic. He goes and reports and comes back, they have to give her the booster shots and run some tests to find out what's wrong. The "nurse" takes her away and brings her a while later. She got the shots and we are waiting on the lab results. He comments on how well she has behaved. He walks out the door and Ginger starts to bellow. Which in Ginger-speak it means "I'm mad at you". The nurse and the vet walk in, bellowing stops. Some more questions and more tests. More wait. More bellowing the moment they leave. The nurse and vet come back. No more bellowing. As she pets Ginger she hands me a print out on the basics of taking care of a dog of this kind, as she finds it amusing that I have almost no clue in pet matters, yet I bring Ginger to her. She leaves, more bellowing. I pet Ginger and rub her tummy the way she likes it but suddenly she gets up as she remembers where she is and a bit more bellowing.
Ginger had a bladder infection, and an ear infection. I leave the vet's poorer than when I walked in with medicine and care instructions. We get home and Michael arrives from work a while later. I explained how it went. The last step,a.k.a. coup de grace, comes when I inform Michael that while at the vet's I heard them call her Ginger Gonzalez. LOL, LOL. That makes it official, Ginger is MY dog. MY FIRST DOG!!

P.S.
Ginger is doing much better. The medicine worked. You can see that she is more happy and she feels better. She is more playful also. No more bellowing. She comes to me and with her paw touches me, then she wags her tail a bit, then I must ask "Ginger do you want a treat". The repeated wagging of the tail and the smile in the face tell me: "Yeah, I want a treat", so I walk to the kitchen and give her a treat.