White Dog jumped at the sound. So did I. YoYoMa, settled on his usual place on the hearth, was doing a little post-dinner grooming when he let out a scream. It was chilling. In an instant he was the center of attention.
I called him over and began the usual procedure of checking for something obvious. Finding nothing I lifted his lips; mouth was fine. I wrapped both hands around his belly and gently squeezed and massaged; he did not flinch or cry out. Boy stuff next; all good. But when I slid my hands over his thighs and squeezed...the yelp! My left hand came away with a bit of blood.
YoYoMa is our biggest boy, and at muscular solid 35 pounds I needed help to investigate further. He was not cooperating in lying down or rolling on his back.
Steve came over with his flashlight, phone, antibiotic cream and soapy water so we could attempt to see the spot on the inner thigh that was so very sensitive that I could not even determine what the issue was.
I fully expected him to panic which he did and he knocked over the coffee table but he trusted me enough to be baby cuddled in my arms so Steve could spread his dangling legs and look. "Thank you," I whispered to him, "for trusting me so completely. I will not let anything hurt you."
There was a swelling lump. It was raw from his attentions and a bit bloody. Even the touch of the soapy cloth was enough to make him wince. It looked like my boy had been stung or bitten...it is the beginning of spider season so that is my guess.
He patiently allowed Steve to smear a huge glob of antibiotic gel (that good stuff that forms a protective band aid cover) on the spot. Then he got a benedryl. It seemed to feel better based on his quieted reaction.
Of course, each of the White Dog Army has had to go and sniff to check. And before night-night walks, we will look again to see if the swelling is reduced. For now Yo is resting next to me and holding me to my promise that I won't let anything hurt him.