Saturday, December 27, 2008

It Really Does Happen in Three's

First it was Dawn's dog, Winnie. She was throwing up pieces of a dog toy, a squeaker ball both she and our foster dog Mister Artie love to play with (he especially liked to simply hold one in his mouth). Winnie began to look droopy and then felt like she was running a fever, which Deni discovered when he felt her furry little forehead. Dawn brought her to the vet and sure enough, her intestines were inflamed from the pieces of the ball and she was quite dehydrated. The veterinarian recommended that Pet's Mart be notified that the balls are defected so other dogs won't go through what Winnie did. She's all better now (almost $400 better!), but it was sure scary there for a while.

Then it was Valerie's turn to give us a scare. About a week ago she began feeling a pain in her lower, right-hand side and it just kept getting worse and worse. She was examined by a physician's assistant on Monday, had labs done early Tuesday morning and then was told they would call her with results as soon as they got them back. The next day she got a message from the doctor's office (she just missed 'em), said their office would be closing at Noon, so she called them back immediately (11:50) and the answering service picked up so she couldn't get the results. She called them again on Friday and was told no one was there with the authority to tell her what was wrong with her. Ugh. To make a long story short we ended up at the emergency room last night around 6:30, was brought into the back around 8:30 and was on our way home at Midnight. Yep, it was packed, but it was worth the wait. We found out a cyst was the culprit and she's feeling hecka better knowing it wasn't her appendix, whew!

The third emergency of sorts happened shortly after the girls left to pick up Val's prescription. I found a spot that looked like someone had thrown up another piece of one of those derned balls and was just about to clean it up when I noticed Mister Artie by the couch. Mister Artie's toys seem to end up underneath things like the coffee table or couch, so I didn't think much of it when I saw him on the floor, facing the couch and making a noise. It looked like he was after an Eeyore slipper (he likes to sneak out of Val's room), but when he began to make more noise than usual I ran over to him and found him in the midst of a full-blown seizure! Deni and I both began to talk him through it just as we do when Thistle, our 14-year old half-toy terrier/half-chihuahua has them. When I saw this wasn't ending any time soon I called Val and told her to come home as quick as she could, that it was a biggie and wasn't ending.

Deni told me to grab a towel, so I put one under his head where a puddle had formed from his drooling and used the another to gently wipe his face and paws. There we were, the three of us on the floor, Deni on one side of Artie talking him through this doozie of a seizure, me on the other, holding Artie's head, soothing him and cryin' like a baby. It must have lasted at least 5 minutes, it just kept going on and on, poor guy. It finally stopped and he was left looking confused and shaky. Winnie sat on the couch just over our heads, looking down on us like she wanted to help. Afterward Artie followed the other dogs (Thistle, Winnie and Clover) outside to the back yard, legs weak and a bit wobbly. He seems to be fine now, but we'll get him checked out after we speak with an AFRP (dog rescue) rep. to let them know what's going on.

I don't know if this old boy will become a permanent part of our family, but for now he's got a home where he's bloomed into a lovable mutt who's slowly stealing the hearts of those who abide within a hop, skip and a jump of the little house out back.

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