The Pepper Predicament - Part 3: Pepper's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

After calling our regular vet to confirm they were closed for the night, we hopped in the car and headed to the local 24-hour emergency vet (which, thankfully, is about a 10 minute drive from our house). We'd caught someone at our vet's office before they left for the day, so they were able to fax over Pepper's medical history while we were on our way.

It didn't take long before we were in an exam room. A vet tech came and took care of all the normal stuff: temperature, weight, all that jazz. My perception of time is all out of whack, but I don't think it was very long after that before the vet came in. He checked Pepper over, asked us to tell him what happened (which we had already told the receptionist and the vet tech, so we were pretty good at getting all the details out by then). By this point, Pepper was so lethargic and weak that he was simply lying on the exam table, barely lifting his head. It took everything in me not to start bawling.

We learned a few things right away. The first was that the vet believed Pepper's heart murmur was at a grade 4 or 5. Now, grading heart murmurs can be pretty subjective and it obviously varies by vet, but the last we knew he was at a 2 or 3 so that kind of hit me like a truck. The other thing we learned was that they were going to keep Pepper... for 2 or more days. I HATED the idea of him being away from us, but I also understood the importance of monitoring him and keeping him safe. 

One thing that kept resulting in perplexed looks and confusion was that Pepper hadn't been vomiting or had any nasty shits since getting into the garbage. We admitted that we had been surprised by that as well, and no one was sure if that was a good sign or a bad one. 

We were given a rundown of the tests he would undergo: x-rays and ultrasounds to check for blockages, an echo to see how his heart is doing, etc. He would be put on an IV right away to keep him hydrated, and they would be keeping him in an area that has someone on duty 24 hours a day. They offered to take us on a tour of the facility, which we gladly took them up on. They showed up where Pepper would get his testing done, where he would be sleeping, where the other animals would be... I was glad to see that he would have plenty of space (the crate he had there was bigger than the one he shares with Maxine) and that someone would be there to check in on him. After a lot of fussing and near breakdowns, we left our little man in their hands.

They told us we could call or come over to check on him whenever we wanted. We started taking advantage of that the next morning. I had a dentist appointment that morning (yay cavity) and was originally supposed to work before and after, but with my baby in the hospital, I wasn't able to concentrate on anything else. I got through my dentist appointment, got back home, and asked Hubby what he'd learned. The truth was that there wasn't much to know yet. They had done the echo and the x-rays, but hadn't found anything conclusive. They said he had been walking fine when they took him out around 3 that morning, and again around 8, but that when they walked him at 10 he had regressed, and was back to being unsteady and uncoordinated. They decided that the next step was an ultrasound, but after that they were pretty much out of ideas. They suggested we consider seeing a neurologist.

What Hubby said at that point about killed me. "Putting him down is starting to look like a real possibility."

I wasn't ready to accept that. I called my mom and talked to her for awhile. She helped calm me down and after talking about things, I decided to go the vet to visit. Now, anyone who knows me knows that I have reservations about driving in Milwaukee. Hubby drives me damn near everywhere I need to go, and driving in the city makes my anxiety jump through the roof. I'd already had to drive myself to the dentist that morning, and here I was about to drive to the vet. I wish Pepper could understand how much I love him. I was not just willing to drive to see him, I was determined to. You couldn't have stopped me. Because if putting him down was even an option, I was going to spend as MUCH time with him as possible.

I spent an hour with him that afternoon. They put a blanket on the floor for me to sit on, and they opened the crate so I could get close to him. I talked to him. I pet him. I kissed him and hugged him. He was still so lethargic, I could hardly believe he was my little man.

They stopped by to draw blood from him at one point. He was slightly more alert after that (probably because they had taken him from the comfort of his blankies), but not much. He perked up a bit when he heard another dog getting fed, and they told me that he had been eating while he was there, which is always a good sign. I left reluctantly (only because I knew we'd be back later), and managed not to cry until I got into my car.

Hubby and I came back that evening to talk to the vet. Little had changed, but we were going to try something new. We were going to put him back on the thyroid medication (the stuff we had tried in June for a couple of weeks), because it appeared clear to the vet that the thyroid issues were the predominant concern at the moment. After spending some more time with Pepper, we left, hoping the morning would bring some better news.

To be continued...

The Pepper Predicament - Part 2: We Have a Pepper Down

Most anyone who has or has had a dog knows that they love to get into things they shouldn't. Miss Maxine first got into the kitchen garbage within a week of adopting her (which is why we quickly changed to a lidded can) and ate some Arby's wrappers. She once stole some very expensive cheese - this stuff costs about $20/lb - while we were still in the room. She ate 90% of a bacon-wrapped filet before we caught her, has eaten June bugs (ewwwww), and has tried to eat several bees (but hasn't been successful). Sgt Pepper is much the same. In the 6 months we've had him, he has chewed up 3 pairs of shoes, chewed on Hubby's baseball glove, has gotten into the living room trash at least once (I think it was twice), and now the kitchen garbage twice. And those are just a handful of things he's gotten to, I'm sure.

So knowing this, and having experienced similar happenings in the past, when Pepper got into the trash, we expected some kind of... reaction. To put it bluntly, we figured he would puke and/or shit because of the things he had ingested. Especially with the beef trimmings being so fatty, we were sure some doggy diarrhea was in our future. So we waited. He might've had some digestive issues from the first time in the trash, I don't really remember. But the second time, there was nothing. It happened on a Monday evening, and all Monday night he was fine.

When he was a little slow on Tuesday morning, we figured maybe it was catching up with him. I woke Hubby up at about 6:30 to come see him moving slowly and awkwardly, concerned he had eaten something toxic. But he went outside nice enough, did his business (which was normal), and came back inside. No real problem.

Until we tried to feed him. He took a few bites and then went to bed. Now, that may not seem like a big deal. Maybe he was still full from his all-you-can-eat garbage buffet, right? Well, you haven't met this dog. Dogs are motivated by different things. Some are motivated by praise, and simply making you happy is enough to get them going. Some love treats and toys. Pepper is food-motivated. He is never more animated than when he's about to get fed. And once you drop that bowl, all bets are off. Your fingers better be out of there, lest he consume them in his haste.

I followed him back to his crate and watched him. I knew he needed his heart meds, which were mixed in with his food, so I brought it out to him and spoon fed him. I fed him his whole breakfast. He hadn't lost his appetite at all! He was just too lethargic to stand there and eat. Same thing happened with dinner. All day he was a little slow, a little off, but we figured things just had to run their course.

Wednesday morning he was doing better. He went up and down the steps by himself, ate some breakfast from his bowl, etc. Things were looking up! So Hubby and I planned to go to the State Fair that night after work and things were business as usual.

Until we were about to leave. We always try to take the pups out before we go anywhere because Pepper has such a hard time holding it. So out we went... except something was wrong. Pepper was walking like he was drunk, stumbling around and uneasy on his feet. Eventually he went to lift his leg to pee and down he went. He just fell over! Right then I decided the fair could wait; we were taking Pepper to the emergency vet NOW.

To be continued...  

Summer? Is that you?

The first summer "holiday" has come and gone. While I'm already whining about being back at work, I am extremely excited for one thing: Summer. 

OK, so I know summer doesn't officially start until late June. In fact, according to the calendar, my June 17th birthday is in spring. But calendars can get f*cked because my birthday is in summer, dammit! I never celebrated my birthday at school (unless you count half birthdays), I've had several pool parties, water balloon fights, and melted ice cream cakes for my birthday. Those aren't spring activities, bucko. And since we in the Midwest get majorly gypped when it comes to warm weather months, I'm pretty sure we get a pass in claiming the whole month of June in the name of summer.

Regardless, Memorial Day weekend is the unofficial start of the summer. Water parks and pools are open, kids (and teachers!) are almost free for the summer, and the camping season is upon us. Yep, after this 4-day week, Hubby and I are taking both the pups camping. It'll be Pepper's first trip with us, and we're hoping he enjoys the fact that he can pee on pretty much anything all weekend long without getting yelled at. We already know Maxine loves camping, so we're definitely keeping our fingers crossed.

An update on the good ol' boy: He spent all of last Wednesday at the vet getting tested for Cushing's disease. As it turns out, the test was inconclusive. He either has Cushing's or thyroid disease, and while both present similar symptoms, the treatments are different enough that we really need to nail down which it is. Our vet is going to have a chat with an internal medicine specialist and let us know what the next step is going to be. It's possible that they'll just run the same test again, but with a higher dosage of the diagnostic drug. 

So what kinds of symptoms does our little man have? Anyone who has seen him knows his fur is thin and he has a bald area on his back that just won't fill in. He has lots of little bumps on his skin, and the skin itself is really, really thin. He's a tiny thing, and even though he has gained 2 pounds since living with us, you can still easily feel (and see) his hip bones and spine, but he has a pot belly. He's really sensitive to temperatures and gets hot pretty easily. He drinks a ton of water and then pees a bunch. Even his heart murmur could be a symptom. 

So far, he's not really in any pain. He does have some mild arthritis, but he's an old man, so that's pretty normal. He still gets around well, jumping on and off the couch, chasing after Maxine, and frolicking in the grass. He still doesn't trust us completely, but he's letting us in a little at a time. Just the other day we a had a breakthrough where he kept wagging his tail while I was petting him. Usually it stops dead, like he's terrified to move if we touch him. But there it went, just wagging along! 

Here's hoping we can show him just how fun summertime is for our little family. :)     

What Goes Around... Always Finds Me

Apparently, this is the time of year that my body just decides, "Hey! You know what you need? A cold! I'll get on that for you!"

This year's late winter cold was a gift from Hubby (as my mom said, he such a good sharer!). I tried to take care of him and myself while he was sick, but with school and work both being a bit nuts, I failed to protect myself from getting this bug. 

On Thursday morning I had a sore throat and was starting to cough. That night Hubby made me grilled cheese and tomato soup, something my dad always did for me as a kid when I didn't feel well. By Friday I had a mild fever, my nose wouldn't stop running, and my throat still hurt. Hubby got me some more Nyquil and some orange juice, all the good stuff that would (hopefully) make me feel better. I took Thursday and Friday evenings off from homework, thinking that pushing myself would only make it worse. I guess I'll never know for sure, but it didn't seem to work that way at all.

Saturday was definitely the worst. By mid-afternoon I had already gone through almost 2 boxes of tissues and was so hot that I wanted to turn on the a/c (but settled for Hubby bringing me an ice pack to cool my neck/back). No matter how I felt, I still had to get homework done and study for an exam on Sunday, so I did my best to push forward. It was stressful to say the least, and that night I got to a max temp of 101.3 (not terrible, thank goodness, but enough). I tried to sleep, but it took me over an hour to finally crash (even with Nyquil). Even then, I was waking myself up with coughing fits every few hours, and during one of the fits, I ended up changing my pajamas because I had sweat through them. Lovely.

I felt better when I woke up Sunday, but I still felt pretty crappy. Somehow I managed to get a 97% on my exam, even feeling like shit, and that kicked off my spring break week. It was a lazy afternoon (complete with 3-hour nap), which was beautiful. I've been slowly feeling better since then (even though my voice hasn't gotten the memo), but have still been waking up with coughing fits. When I was little, waking up coughing meant that Mom would take me into the living room, give me a hard candy to suck on and put me in her lap while she sang to me. These days it means trying not to wake Hubby up (which, really, I shouldn't be too concerned about; he sleeps through anything), and trying to get the coughing spell over with as quickly as possible to maximize sleep time before the alarm goes off and work becomes a reality. When a fit woke me up at about 6 this morning, I almost didn't bother getting out of bed. I hoped maybe it would resolve itself, but it didn't. And now I'm paying for it, groggily sliding through the day, hoping that I can make enough sense out of things to get by until I can sleep again.

Here's hoping that you and yours are all feeling better than we have the past two weeks... Well, except Maxine. She's doing just fine. :)

Poor Maxine McPupperkins or Why My Dog May Never Trust Again

Well, my dears, 2012 has started off less than spectacularly.  

On or just after Christmas, I noticed a tickle in my throat.  For the next week, I'd wake up in the morning with a little pain as well.  Nothing too bad and it went away after breakfast, so whatever.  Just around the 2nd of the month, I started having random coughs.  Then by the 4th, I had some sniffles.  I begged this cold to just manifest itself so we could all move on with our lives.  

Careful what you wish for.  On the 6th, it started going downhill, and I spent the majority of my weekend miserable and/or asleep.  Then, I woke up this morning feeling so shitty, I had to call in sick.  I work from home, so you know it's bad when I have to call in.  I couldn't focus on anything, I was barely coherent, and I'm reasonably certain that even if I managed to function enough to survive the workday, I would probably have to re-do a good portion of it tomorrow anyway (you know, so it would actually make sense).

But enough about me.  This post is primarily about my poor puppers.  As a warning, things are going to get a little gross.  If you don't want to read on, I totally understand.  If you read the rest of this, and then say, "Oh, man!  WTF, Erika?" just remember that you have no one to blame but yourself.

My dog has a hole in her butt.

OK, that seems obvious, but it's not.  Let me rephrase.  My dog has an EXTRA hole in her butt.  Better?

On Thursday the 5th I was giving Maxi her monthly meds (heartworm pill and flea/tick application).  To do the flea/tick stuff, I always sit on the couch, turn her around so her back is to me, and apply the stuff.  (For anyone who doesn't know, this type of flea and tick repellent has to be applied along her back, from her neck down to where her tail meets her body.)  It can take awhile sometimes, depending on how long ago she last visited the groomer's.  She's fairly fluffy right now, but it wasn't too bad.

Anywhoozles, I had noticed her looking a little uncomfortable earlier, and, trying to be a good puppy mama, I lifted up her tail to check out her bum.  Many people are unaware, but dogs (and some other mammals) have these little sacs/glands near their anus.  The cliff's note version goes something like this: 

Dogs produce a secretion that tells other dogs who they are, what they are, etc (thus the whole bum-sniffing ritual).  This same secretion can also be used to mark their territory, warning other dogs to back off.  This secretion comes from the anal glands, which usually empty when a dog does his or her business, but can also empty randomly (like, if the dog's super stressed).  

Unfortunately, sometimes the glands don't empty themselves.  At the very first vet appointment after we adopted Maxine, the vet expressed Maxi's glands for her.  The smell is putrid.  I can't even liken it to anything.  If you've never smelled it, count your lucky stars.  Anyway, that was back in late 2009, and hadn't been an issue since.

Until last week, when I was looking at her bum going, "Huh...  It looks swollen."  So, I told Hubby to make a vet appointment for us asap.  He wasn't working on Friday, so he made her an appointment for the afternoon.  Excellent.  I knew she'd need to be expressed, and I was fairly relieved I wouldn't have to be there.  

After work, it's almost impossible to do anything without letting Maxine out first.  Thursday wasn't like that.  "Outside?" I asked her.  Nothing.  Not good.  "Outside, Maxine?"  She managed to get up and out of her crate, but then scooted her butt all the way from her crate to the kitchen.  This isn't a long distance, mind you, but she has to do a u-turn in the process, so it's a few feet.  She wouldn't listen to me when I told her no, so, fine.  Away we went.  

When she came inside, I decided to be extra careful and I cleaned her up with a baby wipe (she had been getting a rash in the fall, and the vet had suggested baby wipes, so, why not?).  And then I freaked out.  There was blood on the wipe.  I ran to my computer and left Hubby a message.  Then I called him and left a voicemail.  THEN I texted him and left ANOTHER message.  Yes, this was a full-on Riki freakout.    

To Google I went, looking up everything I could possibly think of, reading every page I could find.  Best I could tell, she had an abscess that had burst, but that didn't make me feel any better.  Called Hubby again and finally got a hold of him.  He called the vet and we rescheduled for that evening, just about an hour from our call.  So, I got dressed, poured Maxi some dinner, and waited.  She wouldn't eat.  I tried hand feeding her, and she wouldn't take anything.  Uggggggh.  I was scared out of my mind.

When we finally got to the vet, they tried to tempt her with some canned food (Maxine gets dry food at home) as a treat, but she was completely uninterested.  In fact, she actually turned away from it.  She always takes treats, even at the vet, so this was a new concept for us.  Maxi not hungry?  What?

The vet confirmed my suspicion of an abscess resulting from an impacted anal gland, and walked us through what that meant and what we would have to do to take care of her.  Essentially, all that fluid builds up in the sac, and if it isn't released in the normal way, it finds another way: it bursts through the skin.  Thus, my puppers has an extra hole in her butt.  For now, anyway.

Twice a day we have to give her meds and apply ointment in the hole.  Yep.  In it.  Not on it.  IN it.  Assuming it heals properly, we should be done with this in about a week or so.  But if it doesn't heal properly, we're SOL and we get to start the whole thing over again.  Joy.

On the plus side, the vet did say that we were lucky it burst today.  If it hadn't, the only option would've been to put her under and lance it, which would've been way more expensive than just the shot and meds.  I guess that's good, right?  He also said it was really good that we got her in that night, so thank goodness for an awesome hubby and an awesome vet!  

As soon as we got home, she ate her dinner.  Vet said she probably just didn't want to eat because of the pain (and a mild fever), and I don't blame her, but I was so glad she had her appetite back so quickly.  She's still not back to her normal, playful self, but she seems to be getting better every day (or, so we hope).  Sure, there are some blood stains in the back seat of my car (you should've seen the splattering she did at the vet's office!) and on some towels and her sofa bed, but it's a small price to pay for her to feel better.

So, now that you've made it through that lovely story, here's hoping that 2012 gets better in a jiffy! :)

Oh Dear

I have been so, so busy and so, so sick and tired this week that I completely missed Hump Day.  Yes, my lovelies, I'm terribly sorry.  Hopefully once I kick this cold to the curb, all will be well and I can get back to my normal posting.  Although, I do start school again next week, so...  eh, we'll see.

On the plus side of things, it's almost Friday, which means it's almost the weekend.  Huzzah!  My plan for the weekend?  A whole lot of nothing.  Yup.  Just chilling with the hubs and the puppers (who is currently going to town on a rawhide bone that I got out to keep her busy), watching some TV, playing on the 'puter...  Maybe going to Hooters on Sunday to watch the Packers kick some ass.  Keeping it pretty low key since once school starts up again, my weekends tend to be consumed with homework and studying.  -le sigh-

Who has big plans for the weekend?  Anyone?  Bueller?

Sick.

Yes, lovely readers, this cold/flu/whatever thing has officially kicked my ass.  I was out from work again yesterday and spent more time in bed than out of bed.  It was awful.

As such, there will be no official Moronic Monday post this week.  I'm just not up to it.  Between trying to feel better and playing catch-up with work, I'm pretty drained.  Booooo-urns.

Hope 2011 is starting out better for all of you! 

Mini Saltines Are Like Crack

Ok, in all fairness, I've never tried crack, so I can't say that 100% truthfully.  However, I will say that they are addictive little suckers and that they should probably just give me the world's mini saltines because I will eat them all.  Now.

In other news, my hubby is sick and, as a result, so am I.  I'm hoping to battle this off pretty quickly (I'm in the early, early stages), so in goes the Vitamin C and water!  Nom, nom, nom?