I realize that it’s late in the day for me to be posting my daily entry. I sincerely apologize. But I have a good excuse. Since the day I wrote my post on little Hugo’s gastroenteritis I have been suffering the same vile symptoms he managed to overcome in only 48 hours.

Today has been the worst of it, I hope. I`ve never been very good at staying home and watching my toes (so I don’t vomit—this...

Friday. What a sorry end-of-the-week experience I`ve just had. Fridays, as usual, never fail to disappoint. After waiting nearly 45 minutes (after-hours) for my emergency patient, he arrives. Covered in blood and saliva, Huey makes a spectacular entrance.

Huey is a long-haired housecat of seventeen years. He’s lived a long, indoor life of endless naps, frequent pettings and delicious treats....

Friday. The day began inauspiciously with my son’s cracked braces and an impromptu visit to the [ever-vacationing] orthodontist (I should have been an orthodontist. It’s not as sexy as being a vet and you have to touch people’s mouths—but that Maserati!). Next up was the death of my beloved, twelve-year-old Lexus. I only hope the mechanics can resuscitate her so I can get one more year out of...

Saturday. I was rudely awakened at 0500 this morning by a rabble at my bedroom window. Until then, the girls and I had been snuggled up in a lump in the middle of the too-small queen I [mistakenly] think of as MY bed.

The trio of us pressed our faces up to the window just in time to spy the serenading bandit. It was Zeus—the neighborhood rambler and notorious ladies` man on the block.

A very...

Friday. Should you wonder why my posts have been posted late in the day over the past couple of days (this assumes anyone reads this blog closely--Hi, Mom!) it's because I've been tremendously overworked.

I'll start with my Wednesday. Three AM emergencies. The most critical one did not even present as an emergency--Miss Sally had a sore back. X-rays of her back revealed a nasty-looking...

Saturday. One of my last appointments for the day was a new pup, a six-month-old, dingo-ey dog. She had been rescued from the streets of southwestern Miami (a common place for people to dump their unwanted dogs). After checking her out completely—physical, heartworm, fecal check, shots, I realized I’d forgotten part of my protocol: the microchip check.

I check for microchips on all new pets so...

We live in Miami. It’s a fact of life down here that a couple of days every year you’re going to have to shut down and abandon everything. Every business is different but we like to think veterinary medicine is extra-special. What do we do with our sickest patients? If the big one hits and patients are in the hospital with no one to care for them…we’re f-----.

So, every year, we clear them...

Monday, 4:00 PM. After an emergency-laden, pre-storm day in my Miami hospital, Hook walks in the door with his mom. Hook is a five-month-old boxer pup who can’t keep his mouth off foreign objects. A week ago he chewed up the rug lining his crate. Ever since, he’s been feeling poorly. According to his mom he hasn’t eaten anything in four days. It’s the afternoon before a [potentially major]...

Saturday. My colleague and office-partner has this difficult client. She’s one of the most mistrustful, loudly opinionated clients we have—the kind that walks into the exam room and announces that you must scale her German Shepherd’s teeth without anesthesia (I wouldn’t touch the dog without a muzzle, much less open its mouth and undertake an uncomfortable oral procedure). Because of this...

Yesterday I had a new client walk in as I was on my way out the door. Psyched that I was finally going to make it to my spinning class at least one day this week, I (only briefly) thought of telling the receptionist to inform the gentleman that I had already absconded. Guilt stayed my hand on the keys in the ignition. And when I saw what this new client had in his purple plastic kitty carrier...