Despite a list of promising sales, I forgo yard sailing on Saturday to take Maple to the vet because she is—wait for it—drooling. What, me, overprotective? But listen, it’s like sleeping with a small, slobbering walrus. Not normal. A quick search of the web convinces me that the little fuzzball has something lodged in her throat. Unfortunately, Webvet is just as alarming as WebMD.
I wrangle Maple into the carrier (which she does not like) and the vet checks her heartbeat (which she likes even less) and pries open Maple’s mouth (which she despises), and declares that they should do an x-ray. Maple and I look at each other. “No, thank you,” I say.
The vet agrees that because she’s eating, it’s unlikely there’s a real problem. So, a hefty $150 later, we are on our way with some anti-hairball medicine (really?) that smells suspiciously like maple syrup and that Maple has no interest in trying, despite the name. A tip from my cat-owning friend has me smear her paws with the goop, which kinda works because she’s compelled to lick it off, but not before she tracks it through the house.
All that is to say, I am only able to hit two yard sales on the much-less-popular Sunday, but for $10 I score this beautiful, petite painting of a bay by Karen Gausch. And that is enough because I could look at it its dreamy sky and marshy shore all day.