Poor old Bessie Anne had a rough day yesterday. I couldn't get an appointment with the vet for her until late afternoon so we had to wait it out. She continued to hack and cough, didn't want to go outside, didn't want to eat or drink. I got more and more worried and started to think of worst-case scenarios. But then, as so often happens, by the time we drove to town and waited (and waited) our turn, she wasn't coughing anymore. Dr. Ric always smiles when he sees Bessie; he says she's his only patient with dreadlocks (not matted, it's just the way her hair grows). After a thorough checkup, it seems that whatever she'd swallowed, probably a foxtail, was gone, but that her throat was terribly inflamed and raw. She's on a course of antibiotics and soft food. Bess is so good about taking pills. I pop one in her mouth and follow it immediately with one of her special treats; gone! I do like a happy ending.
After a few false starts, it began raining in earnest in the afternoon and it got darned cold. In a tank top the day before, yesterday I was back in a turtleneck sweater. There were a few suspicious splats on the windshield, but not enough to qualify as snow on the dogwoods. The grapes are far enough along that Joel was more worried about hail, which would have been devastating. Dodged that bullet.
Bessie slept through the night, which meant I did too. Another happy ending.