My little girl, Poppy, had a pretty large ball form under her left arm in a very short period of time. The vet didn't like the looks of it (nor did I) and decided it needed to come out. As soon I heard the words tumor, biopsy, and cancer mentioned, my paranoid brain began looping the following arguement in my head:
"it couldn't be..."
"i know it is..."
"there's no way it could be..."
"it has to be..."
Luckily, now that the surgery is done, the great news is that there wasn't any cancer. As you might have guessed, I am relieved. Now, she just has to deal with the evil cone-collar. She hates it, but I have to admit that it amuses me some... especially since she has become the biggest clutz in the world with this thing on. I don't think there is anything in my house that she hasn't walked into. I really shouldn't enjoy that, I know I shouldn't, but I still find it cute. She looks like something out of the Jetsons... I keep thinking of the Las Venus episode.
