You’ve undoubtedly heard it time and time again:

If anything can go wrong, it will.

We should have named my dog Murphy.

We left Madison last Thursday with the news of an infection in Curly’s joint capsule and an empirical prescription for clavamox. Empirical antibiotic treatment means that they hope it’ll work, but really have no idea.

Bad news bears: it didn’t.

Fortunately, the doctor had the foresight to culture the joint fluid and do antibiotic susceptibility testing. While whatever the organism was (and of course I’m super curious) was resistant to clavamox, trimethoprim-sulfamethoxazole (TMP-SMX) ought to do the trick.

Ugh, the irony. I’m pretty sure this is some sort of karmic retribution for the bottles and bottles of bottles of TMP-SMX I fed mice to clear their genital flora before infecting them with the clap.

I’d like to think that I could satisfy the universe by just becoming a vegetarian or something so it would leave my Curls alone, but alas, I do not like vegetables that much.

So today’s brief and kind of lame blog post is actually brought to you on account of reason 1.5– something I hadn’t accounted for when I first told you about dog stuff and work stuff being the things that kept me away. Today, I had to take my dog to the vet to get a tear test (because apparently TMP-SMX can alter tear production… who knew) and was gone from work for about 2 hours, leaving me quite behind at the end of the day and making up for it tonight. Clever, universe.

Very clever indeed.

Karma is everything they say about her, isn’t she?

And back to real work… got to pay the billZ and all that!