Day
Yesterday was a day to remember. After picking my brother up from his court date, where his sentencing was extended (another) month til January, I got a call from my cousin. My grandmother's dog had died, and they needed someone to come and move it. The lady at the animal hospital gave me some latex examination gloves at my request, and we set off to the house. My grandmother was quite distraught, so my brother and I made our way back into the room where the dog had rested. The first thing that caught my attention was the puddle of mucousy discharge. Also, the general stiffness of the body and, of course, its coldness. I noticed no piles of excrement, which probably helped things considerably. After heaving and straining for a few minutes, I had managed to maneuver the blanket underneath the dead pup so as to carry it (joy) to my car. We got it to the hospital for its standard cremation without a hitch, although it don't come cheap.
Later that day, my white dog had a seizure. I found her lying on the kitchen floor, with the garbage can shoved over into the doorway. I was pondering the newfound location of the garbage can when I noticed her twitching and snuffing on her side. She, as with the other dog, had a good bit of spittle/mucous that she was laying her head in. In her state she had managed to defecate herself. Soon afterward, she had gone from whole-body clenching to opening her eyes wide and making large, albeit slow, running motions, though still on her side. My evaluation of the scene was dismal at best: Her tongue was lolling completely out, so smelling the excrement and seeing her thus, I concluded that in her puppy mind she was running full speed toward the light at the end of the field. Little did I know.
Picked up dog, placed her in bed of friend's pickup truck, rode in back with her. One breezy, brisk ride later we delivered her at the Flossmoor Animal Hospital where the good doctor explained the ins and outs of doggy seizures. Apparently, a seizure consists primarily of flopping over and twitching (check), can include a temporary loss of vision (that would explain why she didn't recognize any of us) and a common after-effect is walking in circles (we lost count of the laps she did around the interior of the house). My personal high point of the evening? That would have to be finding my dog halfway in the pond minutes after we got home from the vet, whimpering and trying to climb out. Maybe poor vision led to the mishap? In any event, I was the one in charge of dragging this confused dog (who might not recognize me) up and out of the water. Anxious? Just a bit, given my healthy fear of her snapping at me. But in the end, she got out alright and noone was harmed. She proceeded to pace (dripping) around the house and has since recovered a good deal (i.e. she has stopped walking).
Now for the morbid part (ha)- I'm looking at my dog right now, and she's relatively okay (just sitting there), but truth be told I would have put her down yesterday. Likely it was my own assumption to how close to death she really was at the time of her seizure. Also a factor is the relatively recent death of my cat, who was put down due to kidney failure. But this dog is on expensive pills, and after bloodwork and examination fees (not to mention the fake hip and other costs of her running away from home)... I don't like where I'm going with this, but you have to die sometime. So yeah, this is a testament to my fun-filled day of hefting dogs. Death is real, kiddies! It's cold, stiff, and mucousy, and will oftentimes sneak up when you least expect it. So love while you can. Work like you don't need the money. Eat a taco, and chew it thoroughly. Good day.
P.S. I am the self-appointed Guacamole Disposal Chair of my one-man Cabinet of Domestic Affairs.
Later that day, my white dog had a seizure. I found her lying on the kitchen floor, with the garbage can shoved over into the doorway. I was pondering the newfound location of the garbage can when I noticed her twitching and snuffing on her side. She, as with the other dog, had a good bit of spittle/mucous that she was laying her head in. In her state she had managed to defecate herself. Soon afterward, she had gone from whole-body clenching to opening her eyes wide and making large, albeit slow, running motions, though still on her side. My evaluation of the scene was dismal at best: Her tongue was lolling completely out, so smelling the excrement and seeing her thus, I concluded that in her puppy mind she was running full speed toward the light at the end of the field. Little did I know.
Picked up dog, placed her in bed of friend's pickup truck, rode in back with her. One breezy, brisk ride later we delivered her at the Flossmoor Animal Hospital where the good doctor explained the ins and outs of doggy seizures. Apparently, a seizure consists primarily of flopping over and twitching (check), can include a temporary loss of vision (that would explain why she didn't recognize any of us) and a common after-effect is walking in circles (we lost count of the laps she did around the interior of the house). My personal high point of the evening? That would have to be finding my dog halfway in the pond minutes after we got home from the vet, whimpering and trying to climb out. Maybe poor vision led to the mishap? In any event, I was the one in charge of dragging this confused dog (who might not recognize me) up and out of the water. Anxious? Just a bit, given my healthy fear of her snapping at me. But in the end, she got out alright and noone was harmed. She proceeded to pace (dripping) around the house and has since recovered a good deal (i.e. she has stopped walking).
Now for the morbid part (ha)- I'm looking at my dog right now, and she's relatively okay (just sitting there), but truth be told I would have put her down yesterday. Likely it was my own assumption to how close to death she really was at the time of her seizure. Also a factor is the relatively recent death of my cat, who was put down due to kidney failure. But this dog is on expensive pills, and after bloodwork and examination fees (not to mention the fake hip and other costs of her running away from home)... I don't like where I'm going with this, but you have to die sometime. So yeah, this is a testament to my fun-filled day of hefting dogs. Death is real, kiddies! It's cold, stiff, and mucousy, and will oftentimes sneak up when you least expect it. So love while you can. Work like you don't need the money. Eat a taco, and chew it thoroughly. Good day.
P.S. I am the self-appointed Guacamole Disposal Chair of my one-man Cabinet of Domestic Affairs.