So, we finally got Archie neutered. I’m very sad about this — he’s nine years old, and we resisted the procedure for nearly a decade, despite serious coersion from a number of vets, because our previous dog died during the procedure. But Archie has prostate disease, and this was alleged to be the best way to fix it.

He’s back and alive, but he’s depressed and seems slightly frail. It’s weird, he’s been graying for awhile, but he never looked old to me. Now he does. Although he’s bounced back a little since we brought him home, something has clearly changed — he seems gaunt and spent. I can’t help feeling guilty, because I know that on some level, I’ve failed his trust.

The vet didn’t make the process very easy. The twins’ medical costs and daycare tuition have left us teetering on the edge financial peril, and even a $300 procedure like neutering is considerable for us. Some of our things were sold online to raise the money. And yet when we expressed this to the vet, all we got was disdain. D.C. is a difficult city for normal people to live in. As it becomes richer and more elite, there is a definite change of attitude towards the middle class, and I can’t say I enjoy being on the receiving end of it.

But that’s a tangent for another post. My fingers are crossed that Archie recovers and spends enough years with us that the girls remember him. That’s the goal.