Happy Ninth, Argos!

Argos is going to be nine years old tomorrow.  I can't believe it.  I know that we got him just a couple of months shy of his seventh birthday, so this should not seem so surprising to me.  But it does.  Time does go by quickly.

The poor guy had to spend the eve of his birthday getting his teeth cleaned under anesthesia at the vet's office.  (Pretty horrible way to spend it, if you ask me.)  But his teeth look much nicer.  It seems like no matter what we give him to chew, or how often I brush his teeth, they get bad so quickly...  anyway, the vet recommended that we keep trying with the tooth brushing, and to maybe supplement with a water pik.  I don't think this makes me much of a prognosticator, but I predict that this is not going to go over well.  Or as we would say in my family when I was growing up, "It is going to go over like a pregnant pole-vaulter."  Or when we weren't being so nice, "like a turd in a punch bowl."

Anyway, Happy Birthday, Argos.  We'll get you something nice over the weekend.  Right now, I give you the gift of oral health.

Worst. Birthday Present.  Ever.  

I was very happy to get the text from Jeff telling me that the vet's office had called him shortly after noon to tell him that Argos was waking up from the anesthesia, and that he could pick him up in a couple of hours.  And of course even happier to see him when I got home from work.  You can tell that he isn't feeling like himself, but he did jump down to come outside with me, and Jeff did finally get him to eat a small amount of food (he turned it down when he was first offered it.)