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  • Writer's pictureDr. Vin

Doggie Doctor

Updated: Aug 15, 2020

The click-clack, click-clack of her approaching heels rouses me out of my stuffed head stupor as I wait in my doctor’s exam room. She knocks, opens the door, greets me with cheerful eyes and a big smile. She checks my ears, nose and throat, which are all red and pronounces them infected. She places a stethoscope on my gurgling belly and asks,

Have you had diarrhea?


You will.

I go home with my diagnosis of acute sinusitis and an antibiotic to fight the monsters who have invaded my upper respiratory tract. I see them as little green blobs with angry faces trying to take over my body. I have been keeping them in the upper tract for three days by drinking endless water, blowing my nose and resting a lot. I don’t want them to move south and invade more territory. Who knows if I have any power, really, but I stay in the fight. I go home, make a smoothie with banana, prebiotics and yogurt. I drink it down like it is a weapon I am sending to my gut to protect it from invasion by the enemy.

I turn on the fireplace, set up my water and Kleenex on the table, and lie on the couch with a pillow. As I lift a blanket to place over me for a nap, my small dog hops up and crawls under the covers to join me.

Alexa, play calming meditation music.

Here is a station you may like…

Soon I hear a flute and close my eyes. I picture a flautist cross-legged on a mountaintop sending his music in a sweet swirl through the broad canyon below and beyond him. I relax but soon feel a mild pain under my ribs on my upper left side. The dog, who has been lying toward my side places his paw on that spot. The paw pressure relaxes my tension and the pain recedes. I drift off to sleep. I am half-awakened by a dull sensation inside my lower right hip. The dog moves there and curls around the spot. His warmth and weight remove all pain. Violins, pianos, and flutes drift on in peace until I get a hard knot in the center of my belly. My dog shifts and lies all the way across my stomach. I breathe and the pain goes away.

Once is random, twice still suspicious, but three times can make a pattern. Has anyone else had this happen? Am I delirious because I am still sick? Do other animals do this?

The result was that my gut was able to push back the invaders and save their land from a hostile takeover! My doggie doctor and I are the winning army.

Just because she waltzes in confidently in those smart sheath dresses, clicking those Jimmy Choos, doesn’t mean my doctor is always right. I just read this to my dog and he nodded proudly, winked and gave me the thumbs up – okay that part I made up.


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