Did you miss me?
I've been dogsitting for my sister and brother-in-law. What started as a fairly simple and straightforward assignment to watch two labs and a maltipoo turned into a bit more.
On bath day, last Saturday, I noticed that Nate (one of the labs) had lost a toenail. It had come out from the bed leaving a little hole and a very red, irritated patch of skin. I figured he'd lost the nail while hunting with my brother-in-law. The paw was swollen, so I called the vet, expecting to get some directions of how to care for the paw until Monday when he could get me some antibiotics for the dog. Instead, he wanted me to bring Nate in.
So I did. The vet was a little wishy-washy at first, then explained that while it could be an infection, it might also be toe-cancer. He was worried about the latter, which happens typically with large breeds, more commonly with black dogs and at a firly high rate with labs, particularly black labs. He started Nate on antibiotics and told me to bring him in later in the weeek if the swelling didn't go down.
Well, the swelling went down some and I was relieved. Until Tuesday, when it started bleeding. I had planned to take Nate in on Wednesday, but I just went on in with him. Th eswelling hadn't gone down enough, and the doc wanted to operate.
So I called my sister and gave her the quick summary of what I've written here and then said, "Let me let you talk to the vet."
Anyway, surgery Tuesday, picked him up Wednesday, and I have had trouble getting him to rest. That tumor, which pushed out the toenail, must have really hurt. Nate has stitches now and is more active than he was. He doesn't seem to be having any balance issues.
Nate is well, Ed and Gus are fine, and Spike is enamored with Ed. It's like a teenaged boy and his adorable little brother who idolizes him and mimics his every move. Poor Ed is patient.
Add the snow and Spike getting out in it (white dog in the snow -- sheesh) and I am exhausted. It gives new meaning to the phrase dog-tired.
On bath day, last Saturday, I noticed that Nate (one of the labs) had lost a toenail. It had come out from the bed leaving a little hole and a very red, irritated patch of skin. I figured he'd lost the nail while hunting with my brother-in-law. The paw was swollen, so I called the vet, expecting to get some directions of how to care for the paw until Monday when he could get me some antibiotics for the dog. Instead, he wanted me to bring Nate in.
So I did. The vet was a little wishy-washy at first, then explained that while it could be an infection, it might also be toe-cancer. He was worried about the latter, which happens typically with large breeds, more commonly with black dogs and at a firly high rate with labs, particularly black labs. He started Nate on antibiotics and told me to bring him in later in the weeek if the swelling didn't go down.
Well, the swelling went down some and I was relieved. Until Tuesday, when it started bleeding. I had planned to take Nate in on Wednesday, but I just went on in with him. Th eswelling hadn't gone down enough, and the doc wanted to operate.
So I called my sister and gave her the quick summary of what I've written here and then said, "Let me let you talk to the vet."
Anyway, surgery Tuesday, picked him up Wednesday, and I have had trouble getting him to rest. That tumor, which pushed out the toenail, must have really hurt. Nate has stitches now and is more active than he was. He doesn't seem to be having any balance issues.
Nate is well, Ed and Gus are fine, and Spike is enamored with Ed. It's like a teenaged boy and his adorable little brother who idolizes him and mimics his every move. Poor Ed is patient.
Add the snow and Spike getting out in it (white dog in the snow -- sheesh) and I am exhausted. It gives new meaning to the phrase dog-tired.