ooky oogly googly

In light of recent events, I am convinced now that some hypochondriacs may just merely be misunderstood. That they are just impatient people who wanna fix their problems now, even before they occur, so they can stop worrying about it. That they should really just be called overgoogliacs. Take it from me, who is now googling the daylights out of "ringworm" and "ringworm disinfection".

But let me rewind.

It's no secret that Baxter did something to hurt himself the day he happened to be hunting squirrels. Whether it's muscular or disc related, the little fella had something going on, and for precautionary measures we've been doing our best to restrict his activity without resorting to strict confinement, all of which is in line with our vet's instruction. I know because I worried about it all night a few days ago after researching IVDD on the internet, and called the vet first thing the next morning.

Since Baxter's vet visit, what I haven't mentioned is a slight return of Mr Stinkybottoms, the silent stalker that makes his less-than-pleasant aromatic presence known often while Baxter is asleep. Yikes, I wonder, should we have gotten his anal glands removed after all and if it really does make sense in the future to remove them, how do we factor in Baxter's possible disc problem? More googling on anal sac disease and expression motivated my call to the vet two days ago, who graciously told me to be patient, to wait 3-4 days to see if his glands settle back down from the stress of his injuries and the visit.

Then I catch Baxter scratching at his left ear, the one that always needs more cleaning than the other. And he is overdue for that very thing. But dang considering Baxter's neck issues should I subject the fella to something that's going to make his head shake all around? But if I don't clean it will he end up with an ear infection? Third call, and yes the answer is wait.

Late yesterday as I was giving Baxter a general looksy in the warm afternoon sun, I notice a unusual spot that I've never seen before. Poke at it with my bare hands. Sorta raised, dark areas don't wash off. Think about whether or not it could be the result of hard hunting in the backyard. Take pictures. Touch my face.

I carry Baxter back downstairs where my merry-go-round of impatience is granted another big whirl when I google canine skin problems. Hm. Come on now, really? Ringworm. You know, Baxter was licking at something in that general area. Incubation period roughly two weeks. Like...when Baxter was at the dog park?? Immediately, I call the vet and email him pictures. Take extra vitamin D. Scrub my hands under hot soap and water and scratch at my hairline, which has gotten significantly itchier than I remember it. Think about all the places Baxter has been in two weeks, then contemplate bleaching the entire house and all its belongings. And once again I wait for the vet to return my call.



In times like this, Google is my friend, yet it is also my enemy. Here at my fingertips is the ability to become both appropriately informed, and inappropriately informed. To take a shred of fact, and build a world around it of question and worry. With all the molehills that are my googled mountains, there can be no doubt what my halloween costume will be this Saturday. When I ring your doorbell, know that it is I, Girl in Giant Bubble holding Dog in Smaller Bubble. Now give us some candy and bleachwipes, dang it.