Sick Animals

I can't focus.
I'm distracted and agitated.
I am consumed with worry and have been for too many days to count now.
Though I sit at my keyboard, I keep an eye on the living room floor.
It's where my dog struggles for breath.
I am sick to my stomach.
And so very sad.
We're waiting to hear from the DVM with results of the tests taken 2 days ago.
CAM is in town on errands, including more provisions.
They are supposed to call him soon.
The work day is ending.
I can't take the wait any longer.
It seems like an eternity.

Not too long after my cheery birthday trip to the coast, Zabby began a rather disturbing cough.
But never having a dog prior to her, I wasn't sure if that's the way a dog cough was meant to sound.
Or even if a dog cough is a normal thing.
Goddammit, this is when I hate the internet.
Almost immediately by default, I head to it as soon as one of the critters out here starts acting up.
Those forums are misery- all doomsday and reactionary.
At this early point, it could be damn near anything. Or nothing.
Which is why I glombed onto the advice from a vet saying he lets these things run their course in 7-10 days.
We decided to wait it out before taking her in hoping it would go away.
Of course it hasn't.
She's been subtly up and down.
But how much of this is just being an old lady and how is her age affecting her condition?
We tried soothing her throat with a warm water and honey concoction administered by syringe since she was fairly dubious.
There was an awful sound I can only describe as trying to hawk up a loogie that accompanied some pretty wretched breath.
But dogs can't spit that shit out like us, so inevitably all that phlegm and gunk was now in her gut.
She was also getting the herbal remedies oregano oil and super lysine added to her fancied up dinners every night, but wasn't making as a remarkable recovery as I'd have liked.
So we found yet another animal doctor to add to the growing list.
The interactions with various vets over the years have left me disappointed and angered.
One wanted to kill Ed straight away.
Another gave me grief when I declined all but the annual shave Dodger gets to maintain his mass of fur that he won't let us comb through.
And we paid an unholy sum to learn Zabby ate something bad and would have diarrhea a few hours after the exam.
I always feel like I'm at a mechanic's with these people- they are professionals and I defer to their expertise, but must they keep padding the bill?
Worse than that, though, is the guilt.
Like- "What do you mean you don't want the blahblah mostly unnecessary procedure and blahblah medicines and tests to confirm that, yup, yer dog's old? Blah Blah BAD PET PARENT Blah. You don't deserve to have animals live with you. You should be ashamed of yourselves for not following up on all the emails and postcards we send you. What kind of a pet owner refuses Herculean efforts to ensure their pet has better health care than themselves? You are full of FAIL!"
At our house, I deal with the cats and the dog is all on CAM, remember?
So he compassionately loaded Z up and steeled himself for the anticipated onslaught.
Fortunately, this DVM was able to be on his level.
We want to be both compassionate and prudent.
He held his ground with her -stop the cough- leave everything else for now
Bordetella/Kennel Cough, was the diagnosis and we got off fairly cheap with a round of anti-biotics.
Though for the life of us we had no idea where on Earth she would have contracted this; she'd not been around other sicky dogs.
And it didn't sound a thing like the one she had when we first got her from the shelter and had to finish up treatment.
Was it something from the beach?
Some low tide bug or a disease some other low tide sniffing dog left behind?
Thus began the danger of not knowing: speculating.
And goddamned Google.

It didn't really work as splendidly as we'd hoped or expected. She wasn't improving, but she wasn't worse.
After laying around all week as usual, she attends a Super Bowl party, sniffs and licks up kitchen bits before trotting outside.
But at home, still not interested in eating, let alone drinking. 
CAM coaxes her with frying up hamburger on the campstove outside since we maintain a veggie kosher kitchen.
This and scrambled eggs do spark interest, but she's often hard-pressed to keep it down with all the mucus crap.
When she doesn't appear begging for week-end popcorn, my spirits are dashed.
She's kept up with this wave of one step forward, two steps back.
And now weaker, supporting her weight, though she's lost more than is ideal, is difficult, so we put on her harness to assist as she ambulates, cushioning her few, but inevitable collapses. 
There have been at least 2 seizures we're aware of, although we don't believe that's related to her current condition- her mild epilepsy was confirmed several years ago and hasn't hampered her quality of life. 

Raingear for second outing

So a much more thorough (and costly) return visit the following week.
We need some answers; a next step without acting in extraordinary measure, overly invasive and unrealistically optimistic.
Stronger meds were prescribed for possible pneumonia, an x-ray and blood panel.
Great Aunt Betty survived pneumonia, I tell her. And we can fix a heart problem with drugs.
Cancer in dogs presents in 50% of the over 10 year old population.
It's the only outcome without hope.
How old is she? We have no way of knowing. 
Because she is dehydrated, Lactated Ringer's Injections come home with her, which is an eerie reminder of what we did to Kiwi Kitty all those years ago.
She's a much better patient.
And then the waiting.
The wringing of hands.
 
It doesn't help that a windstorm has knocked a tree down across power lines at the nearby Lutheran camp.
What is this, some kind of foreshadowing? Our electric co-op line workers are impressive, but when they're not able to restore service within 2-3 hours, I know we've got a long night ahead.
Fortunately, there's no repeat of the untenable 56 hrs. hell of last year, so I'm relieved with having to tough it out for only 15+ hours.
All the emergency gear has recently been perfected, thanks to CAM's diligence; everything we need for this sort of thing is at the ready
You know you live in The Redneck Shire when celebratory gunshots accompany lights coming back on.

Coincidentally,  the day Zabby began the ghastly cough, Rhoda, the Rhode Island Red, got to come inside.

Jailbreak and not helping with chores

I'd watched her for a little over a day start to go loopy, which I assumed was 'henapause' aka molting:
she was showing the telltale signs I've come to recognize.
She'd decided not to join the others in this yearly ritual when they all stopped laying and replaced feathers back in the fall.
That she continued through the cold, dark winter was super odd, but one thing about those chickens- they do what they want.
So whatever.
When CAM saw her swinging her neck and head in a strange new way, we made haste to administer to the bird.
Always we pull out the large cat carrier and line it with towels- much easier to clean than straw and/or pine chips.
There's an extensive first aid kit kept there, so she got a good dose of oregano oil, probiotics, electrolytes, lysine and yogurt.
Thanks to what we learned from Brigid (RIP) we stuck a greased tube down her throat and smooshed the contents into her crop.
Then crossed our fingers and hoped for the best.
And my god! It worked!
We still don't know what the hell was wrong, something bad she'd eaten?
To be on the safe side that she hadn't infected her flock, we kept her in for 3 days, pissing her off to no end.
The downside is that CAM is leery that the wild birds we'd made such friends of by keeping them in seed, would bring bird flu into the compound and then we'd have a real mess on our hands.
It's been so quiet out at the feeders and in the yard since that decision; I hope he rescinds it sooner than later.
I like the small successes we've had with the hens: recognizing when poor Houdina needs respite to lay her weak shelled eggs away from her aggro sisters, Obrahma's egg-bound warm soaks to loosen her up and RC's limp that took so long to heal she ended up going on vacation with us.
But then there are the lost ones- Brigid's prolonged plight and Lucy Lu's rapid downfall.
That feeling, the one deep in your core, when one of the animals is poorly, it's awful.
It twists your insides sore and tender and when it's done its damage there, makes its way up to your heart, which is even worse.
This sensation isn't new to me, yet every time the darkness descends, it feels no better.

When Minnie up and died, I was vigilant over her litter mate's well being for months afterward sure they'd follow her to the grave. (Thankfully, that's not happened and Moose and Bertha are fine.)
And years before her when Princess Kiwi Kitty struggled mightily with ailments of old age, but I was too stupidly oblivious to how keeping her around, did no one any good- especially her.
I've opened up my heart and home to those 2 FIV+ boys, and despite some sneezes every now and again, Dodger's bad teeth and Ed's trouble with dermatitis during the hottest days of summer, they both seem to have some time left.
Barrett's old and his fur is showing signs, but he still pulls out my sock rolls to play with and strategically re-locate outside of my closet.
Chutney has some kind of bizarre cystitis that after 3 trips to the vet was never cured, so now I accommodate her toileting needs with a ridiculous amount of boxes and litter types, lay a pee pad down in bed where she snuggles just in case, and continue to be amazed that's she's not shriveled up dead by now.
As my Grammy said, "So long as they're eating and pooping, that's a good sign."

The sweet burden of sharing your life with these creatures.
"The littler buggers capture our hearts in so many ways..." says my cousin Kelly, with whom I share the animal appreciation gene.
Surely, you will outlive them.
And sending them off to the better beyond is soul-crushing, no matter  how well provided a life you've made for them while they're here.
But until they get sick, you sort of forget that reality.
Just the daily routine of attending to their needs because that's what you agreed to when you brought them home to be with you.
Co-existing in the dynamic family unit, enjoying the nuances of interaction and behaviors.
Loving them all to pieces in their uniqueness and reveling in companionship.
The little personalities packaged up in suits of fur and feathers so enhance your existence, you can't possibly imagine it any other way.
Until that ultimate certainly rears its ugly face, shocking you back into the now.

CAM has returned without texting first.
When he walks in, his red, watery eyes tell the story.
It is the worst possible news.
My heart is in my throat.



* ZDog's had troubles getting around for awhile now, the result of a larger dog aging. So we help to make it easier whenever and however we can. Pix below of CAM creating a ramp off the end of the Cowboy Porch so her bathroom trips are more manageable.
The hens have also decided to put it to good use.