Last winter Doug took our dog, the Bean, for a walk through the woods. She left with two eyes and came back with one.
Or at least it appeared that way. Three vet trips and a thousand drops later, she continued to walk around squinting like a Cyclops. Five months later, it became inevitable: it was time to take a trip to the doggie optometrist in Sunderline, Mass.
The doctor’s name was Dr. Jurk. It’s a German name, mind you, and pronounced “Yourek.” At least, that was the receptionist’s snippety explanation when she corrected my mistake.
It was a three-hour round trip to Sunderline, but the appointment lasted all of ten minutes. Dr. Jurk pried the Bean’s eye open and appeared to scrape it with a pin. Then she sent me home with five types of medication, some to be applied twice a day, others four times a day for ten days, some once a day for five days, some drops, some pills to be covertly stuffed in peanut butter, some drops to be mixed with her food. I had to create a ten-paged medication schedule just so I didn’t accidentally blind the dog altogether.
The diagnosis: Non-healing corneal ulcer. Cost of repair: $386.
Ten days later, it was time to make the drive back to Sunderline so that Dr. Jurk could remove the contact lens from the Bean’s eye, which she needed for a comfortable recovery.
“Ahhh…It’s not in zere anymore,” she said. “Vas she vearing zee cone for zee entire ten days?”
“Yes,” I lied. The truth was, by day three, I was afraid if the Bean knocked into one more doorway with that cone, she’d lose her entire head.
Dr. Jurk peered into her and announced, “Looks fantastic. Completely healed!”
After paying an additional $83 for this happy prognosis, I headed back home to complete my two hundred forty cumulative miles, all in the name of a dog’s left eye.
The Bean is no longer a Cyclops, and I’m grateful. But I still think it’s pronounced like Dr. Jerk.