I just got back from taking Gracie to the vet. This morning I found her in the kitchen, laying in a puddle of her own saliva. One side of her was completely wet. She was shaking, her eyes were kind of glazed and her muscles were tight. I took her to the emergency vet. They were just closing but they took her anyway. The vet there said he didn't think it was a stroke. He thinks she ingested something. I had to think hard about what it possibly could be. She was fine after our walk last night. I gave her a Rimadyl because she was limping. While I was at the vet I called home and asked Lindsay to look around and see if there was anything laying around that she could have gotten into. Lindsay didn't find anything.
They sedated her and put a catheter in her leg. Then I took her to our regular vet. He thinks it's either a stroke or an inner ear thing. He said we can keep an eye on her for a couple of days and see how she does. After that I could take her to a place in Orange County for some expensive tests or I can have her put down. Shit.
She's 12 years old and already not doing all that well. I don't think I'd be willing to spend a huge wad of money trying to save a dog that's probably on the way out anyway. Well, I don't have to decide anything right now. Good thing, too. I'm not thinking all that clearly.
We got Gracie as a 6-week-old puppy after we lost our dear Sally dog to kidney failure. Losing Sally was pretty hard on us and it took a while before we felt ready to get another dog. One of the first things I said to Gracie, that little ball of black fluff was, "You're going to put me through it someday, aren't you." That's how it is with pets. We don't get to have them for as long as we'd like. They get old so fast. Our cat, Katie (best friggin' cat ever), is 9 1/2 and is not as robust as she used to be. Anyway...
We just don't know about Gracie yet. Maybe it'll clear up in a day or two. But I'm preparing myself. And right now I'm going to lay down and zone out for a while. What a morning.
4 comments:
Poor Gracie (and poor you guys). Is she doing any better tonight? Is she communicating at all?
Poor puppy doggie.
Not much more to report. I took Dad to the Va to get his TB test read and to get the rest of his paper work filled out for the assisted living place. So, I wasn't able to call the vet and get a Gracie update. But Paige called them for me. They did some blood work on her which came back abnormal. They're going to keep her for another day to see if whatever she has will just go through her system. They're giving her lots of fluids. Dr. Jezbera said it's not a death sentence at this point. We shouldn't be too worried. Paige said when she was talking to him they had Gracie out for a little walk.
Taking Dad to the VA was a whole 'nother thing. He stumbled so many times! He looks completely out of control when he walks. We had some time to kill between appointments so we went to the cafeteria for lunch. He could barely handle ordering his hamburger. All he wanted to do was chat with the burger dude while people piled up behind him. He kept trying to pay the guy and had his money spread out all over the counter. I finally grabbed it and took his burger and got us away from the counter. I don't think it was because he was being overly sociable. I think he couldn't keep his attention on ordering the burger and chatting seemed so much easier.
When we finally got in to see Dr. Griffin he went into cute and cocky mode. It was a little hard to answer her questions because he kept interrupting with stupid little jokes. He was getting a little mad at me for handing out too much information.
Bleah. Another long VA visit. This time we got to see a PTSD case explode in the waiting area. Poor guy was so nice when we were talking with him. Then the receptionist dude wasn't friendly enough and he just went kaboom. They actually had to call the cops. They got him calmed down and I heard his wife explaining that he had severe PTSD. Dad was starting to make some too-loud comments about him so I had to explain to him that the guy had a mental disorder to get him to shut up.
The VA is such a trip. Mostly it's old guys but every once in a while you see an Iraq vet. Today a young guy came in on crutches. He almost collapsed when he got to the front desk. He just couldn't catch his breath. One of the older guys started talking to him and I heard him say he had been in Iraq.
I hate our leaders. I wish them ill health. For a start.
Geeez what a day. Don't think about politics, that'll make it worse. (Although sometimes visualizing Cheney undergoing some of his own favorite prison rituals can relieve a little stress.)
Sounds like sort of good news if Gracie's out on walkies with the vet. Can you visit her tomorrow and hug her up?
--dean
I'll stop by after I do morning meds.
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