Fucking animals...May be tl;dr, but too bad.
What-ho, poppets!
Before I get into the intense weirdness that is my life, I wish for you all to burn this phrase into your minds and use it as often as possible: "Pimps of fashion." I've been reading a book to gather info for my 18th century English essay in which 18th C hairdressers are referred to by this label. I fucking love it.
Onward.
So, as I mentioned, I'm housesitting for my aunts for the next handful of weeks and am in charge of their two weird cats and aged mini fox terriers. Or, at least I'm in charge of the animals as much as one can be. Now, to set up the story, the eldest of the two dogs is about 14 years old (98 in dog years, I did the maths) and has a seriously enlarged heart, requiring medication twice a day. The other dog has hormone related incontinence and also needs meds twice a day, but I was just throwing that in there, this entry's not about her ;)
So, Wednesday, day two of my stay, I notice during the morning that the old dog, Emily, is a little unsteady on her feet and a bit green around the gills. I give both dogs their meds, have a shower (Emily has to have her medication an hour before she eats, so they both get to wait), feed the cats and get otherwise organised and then feed the dogs. I then biff off to uni for the day (about 4-5 hours). I come home and the dog's still wobbly, but otherwise alright, so I go about my usual routine and get to feeding the animals again at which point everything goes marvellously downhill.
Emily becomes extraordinarily unsteady on paws (see: stumbling like a drunk) and then decides that throwing up everything in her wee guts is a great idea. I disagree. I clean up and then she throws up twice more and begins to look rather...ill. I call my mum and she comes around with Snappy to take a look at the dog. When they arrive at the door, she doesn't even get up or make any noise (usually she runs about, much as an old dog can, and makes a lot of irritating noise). We call their usual vet who, lucky for us, is closed, but we go to the emergency animal hospital recommended on their answering machine. Bliss.
So, about half an hour with an unhappy but mercifully well-behaved dog down a busy highway and we get to Homebush where this animal hospital is at about 8pm or thereabouts. They immediately take her away to have her vitals checked and to see what's what. We wait for about four hours. On a Tuesday night. The bonus was I got to see heaps of different animals (there was a pregnant pitbull, a dog as big as a horse, a budgie, a dog that was hit by a car, a cat in a box and some rats) and read all of the available literature about rescuing, training, toileting, playing with and otherwise accommodating various domestic animals. Eventually a vet comes out and informs us that the dog has been put on oxygen because her body wasn't terribly willing to sustain itself (oh, fuck) and they gave her a little bit of a sedative so they could take some x-rays (great). Turns out that along with her very enlarged heard, her trachea is collapsing in places, making it kind of squiggly looking (the vet's hand actions were hilarious), with the heart pressing at the base of it, making her short of breath. She then goes on to inform us that perhaps those things weren't the reason that she was throwing up...In the x-ray they could see something that may have been a mass on her liver. So, we leave the dog there for the night because they want to take some blood and keep her both oxygenated and under observation.
Here begin the long-winded discussions about "what should we do?" and "should we call them?" and "would they want to know?" Fuck.
Cut to Thursday morning at about 7am. I awake, not that I really got a proper wink of sleep during the night, and, after feeding the other animals, am picked up by my mother to go back to Homebush, to pick up Emily and then take her to her usual vet who will be open at about 9. That's a lot of fucking running around, FYI. So, we get to the vet's, she takes the dog's temperature and announces that she has a fever. We run through the whole craziness about what happened and the vet decides to keep Emily there for the day to see what's what. She runs tests with the blood and looks at the x-rays too.
I get dropped back home, get changed and go to my 11am lecture. Fucking long day...
So, then mum picks up the dog that night and drives her home (hilarious image, my mother driving home with a dog on her lap) and I get the rundown. Yes, the dog's heart is large, the trachea is collapsing in places, and there is a problem with the liver judging by the bloods and the x-rays...It's this liver issue that's going to be a problem and, possibly, more so than the heart in the short term. The vet was not really eager to do any further tests to see exactly what the problem is because of the dog's age and current health issues. The decision to call my aunts has been made.
My mum called the aunts today to tell them everything that's gone on (many tears apparently, bless) and to inform them as to what the vet's verdict is i.e. to not do any further tests unless it's at their behest, and they decide just to let her be and see how it goes. We have the authority to make a final decision, lest there be a need for one, because they don't want her to suffer.
Now, having said all of that, let me say this: over the last day and a half, Emily's eating, walking about though still with a weird gait, and jumping up on furniture, as well as the myriad irritating things that dogs do. The reality is, she's not in great health, however well she's hanging in there for now, and there may well be one less animal in the not too distant future, but for now we're just winging it any playing it by ear.
Fun.
Before I get into the intense weirdness that is my life, I wish for you all to burn this phrase into your minds and use it as often as possible: "Pimps of fashion." I've been reading a book to gather info for my 18th century English essay in which 18th C hairdressers are referred to by this label. I fucking love it.
Onward.
So, as I mentioned, I'm housesitting for my aunts for the next handful of weeks and am in charge of their two weird cats and aged mini fox terriers. Or, at least I'm in charge of the animals as much as one can be. Now, to set up the story, the eldest of the two dogs is about 14 years old (98 in dog years, I did the maths) and has a seriously enlarged heart, requiring medication twice a day. The other dog has hormone related incontinence and also needs meds twice a day, but I was just throwing that in there, this entry's not about her ;)
So, Wednesday, day two of my stay, I notice during the morning that the old dog, Emily, is a little unsteady on her feet and a bit green around the gills. I give both dogs their meds, have a shower (Emily has to have her medication an hour before she eats, so they both get to wait), feed the cats and get otherwise organised and then feed the dogs. I then biff off to uni for the day (about 4-5 hours). I come home and the dog's still wobbly, but otherwise alright, so I go about my usual routine and get to feeding the animals again at which point everything goes marvellously downhill.
Emily becomes extraordinarily unsteady on paws (see: stumbling like a drunk) and then decides that throwing up everything in her wee guts is a great idea. I disagree. I clean up and then she throws up twice more and begins to look rather...ill. I call my mum and she comes around with Snappy to take a look at the dog. When they arrive at the door, she doesn't even get up or make any noise (usually she runs about, much as an old dog can, and makes a lot of irritating noise). We call their usual vet who, lucky for us, is closed, but we go to the emergency animal hospital recommended on their answering machine. Bliss.
So, about half an hour with an unhappy but mercifully well-behaved dog down a busy highway and we get to Homebush where this animal hospital is at about 8pm or thereabouts. They immediately take her away to have her vitals checked and to see what's what. We wait for about four hours. On a Tuesday night. The bonus was I got to see heaps of different animals (there was a pregnant pitbull, a dog as big as a horse, a budgie, a dog that was hit by a car, a cat in a box and some rats) and read all of the available literature about rescuing, training, toileting, playing with and otherwise accommodating various domestic animals. Eventually a vet comes out and informs us that the dog has been put on oxygen because her body wasn't terribly willing to sustain itself (oh, fuck) and they gave her a little bit of a sedative so they could take some x-rays (great). Turns out that along with her very enlarged heard, her trachea is collapsing in places, making it kind of squiggly looking (the vet's hand actions were hilarious), with the heart pressing at the base of it, making her short of breath. She then goes on to inform us that perhaps those things weren't the reason that she was throwing up...In the x-ray they could see something that may have been a mass on her liver. So, we leave the dog there for the night because they want to take some blood and keep her both oxygenated and under observation.
Here begin the long-winded discussions about "what should we do?" and "should we call them?" and "would they want to know?" Fuck.
Cut to Thursday morning at about 7am. I awake, not that I really got a proper wink of sleep during the night, and, after feeding the other animals, am picked up by my mother to go back to Homebush, to pick up Emily and then take her to her usual vet who will be open at about 9. That's a lot of fucking running around, FYI. So, we get to the vet's, she takes the dog's temperature and announces that she has a fever. We run through the whole craziness about what happened and the vet decides to keep Emily there for the day to see what's what. She runs tests with the blood and looks at the x-rays too.
I get dropped back home, get changed and go to my 11am lecture. Fucking long day...
So, then mum picks up the dog that night and drives her home (hilarious image, my mother driving home with a dog on her lap) and I get the rundown. Yes, the dog's heart is large, the trachea is collapsing in places, and there is a problem with the liver judging by the bloods and the x-rays...It's this liver issue that's going to be a problem and, possibly, more so than the heart in the short term. The vet was not really eager to do any further tests to see exactly what the problem is because of the dog's age and current health issues. The decision to call my aunts has been made.
My mum called the aunts today to tell them everything that's gone on (many tears apparently, bless) and to inform them as to what the vet's verdict is i.e. to not do any further tests unless it's at their behest, and they decide just to let her be and see how it goes. We have the authority to make a final decision, lest there be a need for one, because they don't want her to suffer.
Now, having said all of that, let me say this: over the last day and a half, Emily's eating, walking about though still with a weird gait, and jumping up on furniture, as well as the myriad irritating things that dogs do. The reality is, she's not in great health, however well she's hanging in there for now, and there may well be one less animal in the not too distant future, but for now we're just winging it any playing it by ear.
Fun.