The Universe came through and saved my bacon. I found a new vet - a wonderful, country vet, who has an equine and small animal practice that he runs singlehandedly (with help from a vet tech when needed). I transported Cookie to the clinic yesterday, full of trepidation. I had only spoken to the vet on the phone - had never met him. I had never been in the clinic. Was I putting Cookie at risk for the sake of mere money? What I found was a small, two room cabin located next to the vet's house. Inside, it was clean and spartan. Two rooms - one reception/waiting and the other examination/surgery. He was gentle with the terrified Cookie, answered all my questions, and off I went. Later that afternoon, the vet tech called (a woman around my age named Sue - what's not to like?) and said that Cookie had come through beautifully and was recovering in front of the wood stove. When I went to pick him up, I was greeted by the vet's lovely dog and cookie was in his crate very ready to go home. I took a deep breath and asked for the total. $197. This included a full dental cleaning, the extraction of two canines, and his meds. This was, as you might recall, over $900 less than the estimate I had received from my original vet. I asked if I needed to bring him back and she said no - not unless there was any problem. Needless to say, he has all my business.
My head cold is abating. I took some duct tape and fixed my gate - just before the subzero weather. I doubled the grain rations, and everyone seems to be perking up. Bernie is taking her meds gladly in a combination of ground venison and cooked chicken. My Lymes test came back negative. I bought a replacement bulb and now can see while I cook. I will be feeding two less bossy/hungry sheep after Sunday. I still have my job.
So, this brings me to the question - why can't I trust the Universe? I would love to be fully, totally trusting as is my friend, Rosie. She has the bravery to open her arms, mind and heart and put her cares and worries and needs out to the Universe. I used to scoff at this - that it was somehow a sign of weakness that you wouldn't take full charge of your own problems - stiff upper lip and all that. But I can see (and envy) a real peacefulness that she has - that I don't. I'm going to work on it, but, at this age, I make no promises.