“Please go to the bathroom. Why won’t you go? I have sat out here for 30 minutes.” My foster dog Shiloh will not go into the yard. I am more than a little irritated. I raise my voice at her as if that will help her pee. I want to go to bed.
The next morning I feed them, and then take the time to look at her. Her left side of her face and neck was swollen to twice normal size. She has the mumps! No, an abscessed tooth! No a snake bite! She is dying and I was mad at her last night. My last words were harsh. Have you ever felt so bad when the baby or the animals cannot communicate with you and you assume they are just stubborn and yell at them?
I called the vet in a panic – dressed and roared down the streets. She and her sister have a “forever home” but the owner is expecting two dogs this weekend – not one.
She promptly pees and poops in front of the counter at the vet. The dog who never has an accident. I think she is dying. Do the ladies at the counter have to calm crazy people daily? They are not paid enough to clean up all the messes that must occur there. The sister dog Abby is so freaked out to be at the vet again that when we get in the exam room, she gets in my lap. She weighs thirty pounds and lays her head under my neck and just whines. The sick dog is just staring at me. Swollen side of her face. Drool coming out of her mouth.
“She was probably bitten by a spider. There are no visible fang marks.” I am thinking ‘visible swollen fang marks would freak me out’! She needed a steroid shot, some antihistamine, antibiotics and rest. We pay in doggie dollars and head to the drugstore for more benedryl. She ate, threw up everywhere on the carpet.
It has been a delightful doggie day. Here is the angel now….
