"Heeellllloooo, Ladies. Look at your dog. Now back at me. Now back at your dog. Now back at me."
He's on a horse!
Well, not really. I don't know what Max would do if confronted by a horse. He'd either decide it was a really, really big dog that he could play with (being apparently half pony himself), or ignore it.
He went to the vet because he had a weird blood-blister looking thingie on the right side of his neck, covered by his collar. It started scabbing over the other day, so I figured maybe it was time to get it looked at, as things like that are hardly ever good.
The vet was solemn. (She also, interestingly, had bilateral cochlear implants.) She trimmed the hair away from it and recommended a harness (so it wouldn't get rubbed) and warm compresses (just in case it's an abscess, the best-case scenario), but admitted that things like this are normally not pleasant. The next step would be a chest and belly X-ray, given that stuff that shows up on the skin looking like this particular thingie does are usually skin mets from an inside source.
Max is nine. He's a big guy, a GSD cross, and so is prone both genetically and age-wise to things like hemangiosarcoma.
He has a new harness, the biggest one Petsmart sells, let out to its absolute maximum for his forty-two-inch chest. He also has a bully stick waiting for him once he gets up from his nap.
The harness has his new rabies tag on it. I went ahead and bought a six-month supply of heartworm meds for him. I hope we'll get to use them.
Prayers would be gratefully accepted. He's a very good boy.