delights me. As it should.
Why, just the other day, I laughed heartily when a tumbleweed tumbled
right into him. It stuck itself to his ear and foot, making him
dance, sort of like a kid with a mouse down his pant leg.
We rescued both dog and weed and went on with our walk in the wind.
"Something's wrong with Jacob's eye," Allen has said every day since
(well, we're not quite sure of the timing on this ... was it before?
Jacob's eye? I stroke his head, scratch under his chin, then raise his
face toward mine. I draw down the lower part of his lid and expose
red where white should be. Oh, I think. His eye is just a little pink.
"Something's wrong with Jacob's eye," Allen continues to say everyday.
And everyday I go through the motions of checking it out.
"Something's wrong with Jacob's eye," Allen insists loudly this morning.
I stoke his head, scratch under his chin and raise his face toward
mine. OH MY! His deep black/brown cornea keeps rolling up, back into
his head. WHAT?
We Google "Galllup, NM veterinarian" and find two. We make
appointments at both and end up seeing both (the first guy was a
little off the wall.)
I say to both vets "There's something wrong with Jacob's eye."
The first vet suspects poisoning and wants us to contact a veterinary
ophthalmologist. So we keep our second vet appointment.
We learn from both vets that Jacob's cornea is not moving. It's
his third eyelid that's raising up to cover a part of his cornea. (All
dogs and cats have a third eyelid; we often see it when the animal is
Our second vet dismisses the poison theory and suspects Jacob has a
scratched cornea. Well probably. Her equipment shows big scratches,
but not little ones. So she's making an educated guess based on a
series of tests.
And, she theorizes, it could have been happening while I was laughing
at him dancing with that tumbleweed. Or anything small blowing in the
wind could have stuck in his eye, causing problems.
We don't know.
But after two days and special ointment, there should be nothing wrong
with Jacob's eye.