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Forgive the Inelegant Prose That Follows

June 11, 2007

I had meant to write something briefly about this last week, but somehow I didn’t make the time. Now I find myself in a state of mind where it is difficult for me to concentrate enough to write something worth reading. So I will simply state it plainly. Jon—my guitar teacher—invited me to play a short set of three tunes with him at one of his shows. So last Thursday at the Laughing Goat, I got up on stage with him and backed him on The Red Box, The Humours of Barrack St., and Tamlin. Needless to say, I had a blast (in spite of missing two chord changes).

But now for the bad news; the reason that I am in such a scattered state mentally (or at least the catalyst). This morning, while walking at Chatfield with my Mom, my parents’s dog was bitten by a snake. No idea what kind of snake, Mom couldn’t tell. Having experienced certain levels of the adrenaline dump that can arise in these situations, I am not surprised.

She called me this morning—probably sometime around 10:00—to ask for help deciding what to do. She wasn’t sure whether, once the park ranger arrived to help her carry the dog to the car (thank the gods for cell phones), to drive to Castle Rock¹ to take him to his vet there, or to look for one closer by. She had to hang up before we’d really decided; so I looked on Google Maps for vet hospitals in the area, found one, and called to find out a) if they could handle this kind of injury and b) to warn them that Mom might be coming in with the dog. When Mom called back, it seemed that she and the ranger had arrived at the same conclusion I did: that she should take Nalu to this hospital that was near by. So I looked at the map and helped her figure out where she was going, then hung up and called the hospital back to let them know that she was definitely coming in.

When Mom and dog arrived, they put him on anti-venom and an assortment of other medications to treat the wound. He’ll have to stay there for at least a day, possibly more, while they monitor him and make sure nothing goes wrong. Last I heard, his temperature had gone down and he was panting less, the bite was still swelling (which is apparently not unusual), and they have him on morphine to try and help him rest. At this point, there is not much that anyone can do except wait.

Here’s hoping…


¹ At least a 30 minute drive from Chatfield.

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