How Dr Google stung me for $250: Mel Buttle
After this experience, I think it’s time to start ignoring my Gen Y instinct to turn to Google every time a crisis comes along, writes Mel Buttle.
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The dog put on a turn last Saturday night for attention.
I knew the universe would throw me something, it was going all too well in my life; I had just pulled the trigger on both a dishwasher and a new cardigan.
Sorry to brag but yes, I’m now officially a grown up, big lady with her own dishwasher, and a very nice pale green cardigan for those wondering.
Don’t worry though, a seven kilo jack russell cross is about to teach me a few lessons. Coco is her name and my guess is she’s crossed with either a jack hammer or a kelpie.
Coco, from her vantage point in one of her three beds in the living room, saw that life was plodding along a bit too smoothly for me.
So she took it upon herself to chew up any plans I had to, firstly, sit at home and relax with a mind- numbing reality show and a bowl of potato gems.
Then, secondly, to get rid of that little bit of extra cash I’d just chucked on the mortgage. Thanks for keeping me grounded Coco, I was getting above my station in life, with me now being an elite dishwasher owner and all.
Coco drew my attention away from the tele, as she was on her back kicking the air repeatedly. Not one of her signature moves. It looked like one of her back legs was Irish dancing all on its lonesome.
I swapped out the potato gems for my phone and did some quick Googling.
Of course Dr Google came back with horrendous possible conditions that could cause such a thing.
All the articles ended with, “take your dog to the vet immediately”.
Am I the only weirdo who talks to their dog and waits for an answer? “Coco what’s wrong? Are you sick?” I said, holding her up to my eye level, hoping that she’d give me a sign that said, “all good, pop Glow Up back on and enjoy your night”.
Of course she never answered, and with Dr Google’s advice ringing in my ears, off to the after hours vet we went.
After a wait, where I of course pictured the worst, the vet brought Coco back out and said, “Let me show you her paw, see how that one is red and the others aren’t?” she explained. I nodded.
“Well it seems Coco has stood on a prickle or has had a little sting.”
What a relief, she’s going to be OK. I paid up, she wasn’t the only one to get stung that night.
On the drive home, I started chatting to Coco again, “I’ve just taken you to the vet because you’ve got a bloody itchy foot! $250 down the drain because you lost a fight with an ant!” I ranted.
Coco wasn’t bothered, the vet had given her some allergy meds that made her sleepy.
I guess from Coco’s viewpoint, she’d had a great Saturday night, she’d met some lovely new people and got so high that she fell asleep with her tongue up around her eyes.
I think next time a crisis comes around, I might ignore my Gen Y instinct to Google everything and instead, do what Mum’s been suggesting for years, “open your eyes and have a proper look”.
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Originally published as How Dr Google stung me for $250: Mel Buttle