Who Knew?

This weekend was great. I had an amazing time in the Hamptons with some really wonderful people, got to relax and I now have a slick tan.

Then I got home and went to pick up my dog from a friend's house. He was fine and happy to see me. We're walking around her house chatting, when all of a sudden, my dog collapses on the floor, convulsing and wailing. Somehow his front leg was hurt and he could not walk. After some serious thought and the assurance that lawyergirl would pick up any large tab (thanks again) as I was crying on the phone and the dog was crying on my couch, we hopped a car to Park Slope where there is an emergency clinic.

Long story short it looks like some kind of arthritis/osteocanineperosis or some crap like that. My dog got some sweet painkillers and now we're just waiting and seeing. But then the vet informed me that my dog, being part Bassett Hound, is actually a dwarf. No, listen, he suffers from real dwarfism. According to him, because my dog's head and torso are in proportion and his legs are freakishly short, he and breeds like his are really dog dwarfs, and because of that they are prone to bone problems.

After all this time, who knew. My dog is a dwarf. I'm going to sign him up with central casting so I can at least make some money during the holidays when Macy's needs elves. But on a serious note he was much better this morning. Then again, I'd be doing much better if I were on painkillers and laying on the couch.