Monday, December 20, 2021

Little Dog, Big Pain

I watched it happen. I'm not sure still just what it was I saw, but I saw IT. 

I always watch the dog when she goes out in the yard. I know how far she goes when she pees, and how that changes in cold weather, how much more it changes when there's a drop of dew or any rain on the ground. I watch the rabbits (OK, hares) run away even though she has absolutely no idea they are meant for chasing. They are so much safer inside our fence than outside where coyotes can snatch them, but our harmless little mite of a dog is still perceived as a danger. The birds are smarter, strolling leisurely away as she approaches, still looking for food or bits of sand for their crops as they go. I know how she loves to drop her little black pebbles out near the fence where they blend in with the pebbles that actually are rocks, making them harder to locate later when it's cleanup time. That's why I watch.

I watch all this. And I watched her then. She just stepped off the patio blocks extending just a bit past the patio opening to the yard, down onto the ground. Perhaps a half inch down in level. Nothing at all any other day to her. This time she flinched, then stopped for a second, before the need that drove her out here reminded her why she came. But now she limped.

Just a little bit. Once having done what she came for, she turned and hurried toward the house, running once she hit the flat patio floor. She even ran a bit inside the house as if the trip had relieved her of a burden. Which of course it had.

Her next trip out she was fine until her feet hit the dirt. She limped a bit, squatted, perked up on her way in again. But she limped just a bit a few times inside the house. By the next day I had Rich help me hold her and that foot still to see if anything could be detected that was causing her discomfort. All we got was a reflexive yip like she always gives when we accidentally touch her in a spot she doesn't like. Like when we pick her up. Sometimes when we try to scootch her gently over to a different spot on our lap so we're more comfortable. There never seems to be anything wrong, and a quick tender word or three and a pet soothes her. We looked her foot over for several minutes. She let us know she wasn't exactly thrilled with the attention, but didn't yip or flinch at getting her foot examined.

She started holding her foot up when she walked through the yard. Her peeing spots got closer to the door. Finally that foot just didn't go down. It was time for the vet to have a look. I get that a small dog can function normally with just three legs. I've seen enough episodes of "Dr. Pol". But not when the fourth leg is in pain. And it's an increasing struggle for her, with it being a hind leg, to get a good base to jump up to the chairs we're in for a good cuddle and warmup.

The local vet opens at 8. The had an opening left for an emergency, which I believe a dog in pain, increasing rather than fading over several days, is. I dropped her off on my way to the club, which suited both the vet's schedule and mine. By now I was carrying her everywhere. 

We did the usual interrogations. Checked her history there.  Got weight - the only time I set her down. Explained the ... whatever it was that happened. Mentioned I was OK with x-rays if needed, explaining that there had been tiny metal shavings in the area. Rich does metal work on the patio, and while he goes over the area with strong magnets to pick everything up afterwards, my usually bare feet can attest that it's not a perfect pick-up. An x-ray should find any metal bits. Or arthritis, freak fractures, etc. 

They let me know the visit plus x-rays would cost $300, and that's before anything else. It would be $___ more if they had to be sent out this way, and yet $____ more if sent out that way.

Gulp.

I asked if we could have this discussion after they found out whatever they found out. Sure. I signed stuff and they took her on back, promising to call.

Just before noon they called. There had been something that poked her. It was gone, but infection remained, no doubt the cause of increasing pain. She was now on painkillers and antibiotics. She was also  going to have to wear the DREADED CONE OF SHAME! 

There was good news. They cleaned out the wound well enough to determine x-rays weren't needed. They also went ahead and trimmed her toenails while she was there, something I was going to schedule for the groomer's next open appointment anyway, once I knew how her foot was doing. The total bill was just under half of their initial quote.

I was sent home with pills and instructions, plus a cone that they decided to let me put on her at home. Gee, thanks guys! Good thing Rich was a second pair of hands again. The fit was very tight. I looked at the cone to try to figure out how it went together, thinking to open up the tightest part and close it after. No go. Not for me, not for Rich. Tug. tug, push, push harder, move her ears each up into it, and finally fasten it around her neck. Once there it was pretty genius, having loops that her own collar slid through to hold it in place just the right size to stay securely on.

If she had issues before with just the foot for her mobility, the cone doubled down. It stuck way down under her chin, and every attempt to jump up was stopped by the front of the cone. We were still picking her up. Any trip out in the yard was reluctant, and she refused to venture more than 6 inches from my feet. This is way too close for doggie piddling, lucky me. Then again, it meant we had to take her out a few more times in quick succession in order for her to wander far enough away to ... uh, perform.

There was one more big problem. Her cone extended far enough that it was impossible to actually reach her food and water in their dishes. She's already missed breakfast - held back in case of some need to sedate her at the vet. The medications she is on make her thirsty. Simple care makes that cone more harm than good. So I made the executive decision. Off it came.

Tug. Pull. Tug tug. Oh yeah, unfasten the collar. Pull some more. At least this time she was cooperating with the process. She still can't or won't jump up into my lap by herself, but as soon as I pulled out the laptop, down she jumped and limped over to jump up on the couch. It's the one with the fluffy comforter of Steve's on it that she loves to tunnel into. A bit later I served her supper and refilled the water bowl. Turns out she loves her meds if they are covered in bacon fat, something we store in the fridge. Just dip in a clean finger....

Hopefully that little treat makes it all worth it. She's getting more for 7 days.


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