About 3 weeks ago I shared how Pop and I got into a nest of yellow jackets. Me being the brave dawg that I am, I hardly mentioned the punishment I took for our dumbness. Instead, I made Pop out to be the one who suffered the most.
The fact is that while it did take several days for Pop’s body to work that nasty venom out of his system, he didn’t suffer any long-term effects. Well, even though I didn’t make a big deal about it at the time, at least one of the stings I got most assuredly changed my physical appearance forever.
Ya see, I had an appointment with the vet a few days later for my annual temperature takin’ humiliation, wellness exam and those dang shots all us canines have to get to be street legal. Well, while the doc was squeezin’ here and there, he told Pop there was a bump on one of my . . . well, my nether regions. I heard him say that it might just be the result of some kinda trauma (like maybe one of those yellow jacket stings) or that it might be something really bad. Considering the second possibility, he recommended that the potentially offending part (and its neighbor) be summarily removed and sent off for screening. Even though nobody asked for my opinion, Pop said okay and 3 days later I was back for the procedure.
As it turned out, the lab said that the lump was nothing bad. I reckon that’s a very good thing but, in hindsight (no pun intended – really), I now can’t howl as a baritone anymore. I’ll probably end up sounding like some little runt feist dog. As Mammy said in Gone with the Wind, “It ain’t fittin’; it just ain’t fittin’.” But I reckon I’ll just have to live with it (or without them, as it were) knowin’ that Pop was just lookin’ out for my long term well-being.
I have to wonder that if Pop had gotten stung in the same place as me, whether they’d have taken the same precautions. Somethin’ tells me the answer is no.