We had a one-day break in this abysmally frigid weather pattern yesterday when the day-time high stretched into the stratosphere to give us a minus-7-degree opportunity to take Jack and Jill for a snowy trek into the ravine. The snow was piled high on the trails, though tramped down to a certain degree after the all-day snowfall of the day previous.

Lots of others were out enjoying that break. And Jack and Jill, to their delight, got to meet a panoply of other dogs out similarly taking advantage of the 'warmer' temperature, romping in the fluff of the new snowfall. Mostly larger dogs, and mostly of a mild temperament, though one obviously enough thought unkindly of small, very young dogs and made his distaste for them evident enough. Our puppies were able to divine that for themselves and gave him a wide berth.

And then we came across Catherine, out with Scamp. I was first introduced to them about ten years ago when they moved into one of the houses down the street, and he had been newly rescued as a mischievous juvenile. He's moving into his 15th year and though slowed immeasurably, still holding his own. We hadn't seen Catherine since we lost Riley. When we mentioned our impressions of the Alta Vista Animal Hospital, the premier location in this city that pet owners are directed to by their own veterinarians who have reached an impasse in their ability to usefully diagnose and treat a malady, she reacted quite negatively.

Telling us that a year and a half ago she had taken Scamp to them for help. They had diagnosed him with a sever gall bladder problem; informing her that unless he was operated on immediately there was a very real danger it would burst. They wanted first to do an ultrasound to confirm their diagnosis and it alone would cost two thousand dollars. That's when she turned around and gathered Scamp and the two made their way back home. A year and a half ago, and somehow, his gall bladder has caused no problem, and he is easing into his elderly years quite well.

This is the very same diagnosis and extreme warning we were given; that our little Riley would not live out the day, given the results of the ultrasound we authorized them to conduct. That without a swift resort to surgery he would die. Assuring us that his age was no problem, he would easily surmount the effects of the surgery. We assented.

If our own trusted veterinarian service had advised us after their own X-ray and bloodwork that he needed more specialized service than they were capable of, who were we to question their wisdom? Everything, his bout with diarrhoea, his listlessness, had happened so suddenly. Feeling we had little other choice if we wanted to have him survive the medical crisis we were informed he was suffering.

The immediate results of the surgery were his vital signs diminishing hour by hour as he was placed on emergency life support, drugged and comatose, as we watched his life disappearing, thanks to the ministrations of this premier animal hospital dedicated to the welfare of its vulnerable patients and their trusting owners.

Note to Dar: please spare me your egregiously gratuitous comments.