So it must have been weeks now since the humans gathered to enjoy their endless parade of food.  I can still smell the roasted meats.  Partly that's because they take it out of the box with the cold doors and heat it up day and night.  The worst thing about the food parade is how little of it I actually got.  I can see the food, I can smell the food and every once in awhile I can taste a crumb of the food, but none of the food seems to find it's way into my bowl.  It's a process I can't begin to understand.  I heard mother telling Anna that it's about "being thankful for everything we have".  I guess the faithful companionship that Bea and I provide so willingly is not included in the things she's thankful for.

Based on the pets we've seen this week, no one else got to enjoy food from the feasts either. We did have a scare from some Boxer sisters that were left home alone with two pumpkin pies.  When their parents got home the pies, tins and all, were gone.  Of course, those girls kept their mouths shut and didn't get sick even once. Mother's worried that the pie tins haven't been seen either.  "I'll bet the dogs just pushed them under the oven or the fridge, even Boxers can't digest aluminum" she said.  I don't know what the aluminum is, but if it tastes like pie, I'd try it!

Mother's biggest problem this week came from one of our tiniest patients.  Nutmeg Place was a 4 lb Chihuahua that came to see her for trouble walking.  "We only left her alone for a few hours two nights ago and she hasn't been able to walk right since. We think she may have broken her hip!" her dad, Rock, said.  Nutmeg couldn't stand up on her own, and when made to stand, all of her little legs would buckle and collapse. Mother knew that the tiny dog was in trouble. "None of her legs are working properly" she explained while placing Nutmeg's small paws upside down on the table.  Her paws just stayed knuckled over.  "This means that the spinal cord in her neck has a problem. It's most likely from a pinched disk and she needs to be seen by a neurologist immediately"  mother instructed.   Nutmeg's mom, Hart, said they couldn't go, so mother gave Nutmeg some pinches instead.  "It's very important that she stay strictly rested for the next two weeks. If she's too active she can make things worse" mother instructed.  "Now you're sure it's not a broken hip?" Hart asked.  Mother assured her that all of her other legs would be working if only one was broken.  "Don't you need x-rays to know if she's broken?" Rock asked.  "We do like to take x-rays to investigate a problem like this, but we would need to sedate her for x-rays of her neck and if surgery is not an option, there is only one treatment left, and that's medicine"  mother worked to explain.  It was at this point, that I knew mother was stuck between a Rock and a Hart Place. 
Over the next 5 days, there were questions and calls every day.  Nutmeg did well for the first few days and was back "running in the yard when her back legs stopped moving altogether" Mrs. Place told Vonnie yesterday.  "I figured that lady vet just didn't know my dog so she had to be wrong" she volunteered. Vonnie's only answer was the number to the nerve-ologist. 

So today, mother found out that Nutmeg has since been to see two specialists (because the first one didn't know Nutmeg very well either) and the results were that all the doctors recommended the same thing:  Nutmeg has to have surgery to get better.  Mother smiled sadly and said "I guess I knew her dog pretty well after all!" 
Mother knows me pretty well too.  Now, if she would just put some of the super smelling roasted meat in with my dinner, I could be really thankful as well.