Well, I didn't mean to start the year off with a trip to the vet, but that's what I ended up doing anyway.
I was petting Dezi this afternoon when I realized that it looked like his dew claws were overgrown and pressing into the pad of his paw. I can't even tell you how quickly his dew claws seem to grow. One day - fine. Next day - EEP.
So I take Dezi to the vet to have them trim his nails. I could do it myself (but Mike and I tried to trim Zorro's nails once and he gave us these SAD CHIHUAHUA EYES and we couldn't do it again) or I could take him to a groomer (but I don't love the idea of people I don't know using cutting implements on my dogs) but I'm really just more comfortable having the vet techs at my vet trim my dogs' nails because a) I know them, and b) they know my dogs.
So you see, really it's no big deal for me to take Dezi to the vet to get his nails trimmed except when it turns into something else. And when it turns into something else = when the lovely tech comes to tell me that one of his pads was infected and the Doctor would like to do an exam, and they'd like to give him some antibiotics. I say "okay" to all of these things because I love my vet, and I go to an animal hospital that has never once made me believe they were suggesting something unnecessary. So, I wait a little while, and the Doctor comes out, and she tells me about the infected pad, the antibiotics and one more thing:
The cone. The vet tech hadn't mentioned the cone.
Needless to say, we are at home and when Dezi isn't bumping into walls and getting caught on things, we're having a little love-in on the couch.