"When one trains one's conscience, it kisses one while it bites."
Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, #98
It is really freaky when there's obviously something wrong with your dog--as in, he can't walk--but there's nothing you can do about it and you can't even find any diagnosis that matches the symptoms. It's slightly less freaky when he inexplicably seems okay about an hour later, just as you're preparing to load him in the car for a 45 minute drive to the nearest open animal hospital.
He's still fine now, thank God.
Some days I really really wish animals could talk.