Friday, December 15, 2006, 21:55
One Sick Puppy
I kind of figured something was up when I was awakened by a whimpering dog at 3 a.m. Thursday morning (actually it still seemed like Wednesday night to me, seeing as I had not been asleep all that long after working on some newspaper stories.)
At first I thought it was Charlie downstairs who was whimpering. But when I got up, I realized it was Pixie because she was waiting by the door. It is unusual for Pixie to want to go outside in the middle of the night.
"Okay, Pixie," I said, as I slipped on some boots. "We'll go outside."
I wobbled my way out to the east side yard. Pixie ran ahead of me, across the driveway and down over the bank. I followed her to see what she would do.
As it turned out, poor little Pixie had a bad case of diarrhea. She needed to go outside again a little while later, and then when I got up in the morning, she communicated to me that it was urgent she go outside again.
Just between you and me, diarrhea in a long-haired dog is not all that much fun. I can't tell you how many times I filled a dishpan with warm water, added some liquid antibacterial soap and then washed the long hair on Pixie's hind legs.
At 8 a.m. I called the vet clinic because I was wondering how much Pepto Bismal I could give her. By this time, poor little Pixie was also vomiting.
The vet was concerned whether Pixie seemed dull and lethargic. If she was, he thought it was possible she could have pancreatitis.
"She's sitting right here, looking up at me, ears perked, eyes bright," I said.
"Is it possible she ate something?" the vet asked.
Yes, I told him, it was entirely possible. When I go outside, Pixie loves to snoop around the horse pastures, and lately, she had taken to wandering down to the end of our five-acre hayfield to snoop around.
The vet told me I should give Pixie a tablespoon of Pepto Bismal and that if she wasn't better by Friday morning, I should consider bringing her in.
Pixie, I know, is not crazy about Pepto Bismal. I have had to give it to her once before, and it was a fight and a half.
I pulled out one of my handy 12 cc syringes and put some Pepto in it.
"Come here, Pixie," I said.
Pixie came over to me, and when she saw the syringe in my hand her ears drooped and she turned and scurried away.
"Sorry, Pixie, but we have to do this," I said, grabbing her collar.
I got behind Pixie and put my knees on either side of her hips, put my arm around her neck, and slipped the syringe tip between her teeth. When I squirted some of the medicine in her mouth, she struggled and tried to get away. Eventually I got all of it into her.
"There," I said, "that wasn't so bad was it?"
Pixie threw a dirty look over her shoulder as she hurried away.
The poor dog needed to go out two more times before I left for the newspaper office on Thursday. I came home in between interviews I was doing to check on her. She had vomited again -- and she had also left a small puddle of diarrhea on the living room carpeting.
Yipee.
I had just enough time to let her out again, clean up both messes, and clean up Pixie again before I had to leave.
Randy got home before I did later in the day, and by then, thankfully, Pixie was much better. No messes the house. No urgent appeals to go outside NOW.
"I thought something was wrong because when I got up at quarter to six because she wanted to go outside," Randy said. "She usually doesn't do that."
Pixie was hungry Thursday evening, so I gave her a little bit of dry dog food to eat. And then I kept an eye on her. No vomiting. No urgent appeals to go outside NOW.
By Friday morning, Pixie acted like she felt much better. And so far, during the day she has seemed fine.
I don't know what it was that Pixie ate. I hope she doesn't eat it again!
One of the stories I was working on for the newspaper was about the norovirus (stomach flu) that had closed one floor of a hospital earlier this fall and that had closed a nursing home and another hospital in this area a few weeks ago to visitors and to new admissions and which had closed the local nursing home to visitors for a week last week -- all in an effort to try to stop the spread of the illness. The public health department tells me that the virus is particularly bad because it becomes airborne in a room when someone vomits and that you can get sick simply from breathing in a room where someone is sick.
I really doubt that Pixie had the norovirus, of course. But the incident certainly made me aware of what a time of it they must of had in the nursing home and hospitals where residents, patients and employees were all sick at the same time.
LeAnn R. Ralph
Wednesday, December 13, 2006, 19:29
Mud City -- (and) -- The Christmas Helper
If I thought it was muddy before when it rained while we were trimming Isabelle and Kajun's feet at the end of November, it's worse now.
The cold weather last week froze the mud in the horse pastures and the driveway. The horse pastures were impossibly rough and difficult to navigate, especially up by the fence and around the gates -- both for me and the horses.
The ground was so rough that after standing there for 10 minutes to brush Isabelle and pay some attention to her, my feet would get cramps in them from standing where it was so uneven. I gave up on trying to get Isabelle to move somewhere that the ground wasn't bumpy because she didn't want to walk around any more than she absolutely had to.
Then it warmed up over the weekend.
And began raining Monday night.
The rain came down hard at times Monday night and a few times Tuesday, and all together we got about a half an inch.
The warmer temperatures and the rain thawed out the first couple of inches of soil. Just enough to make it mucky, but not enough so the water would drain away. We've got "mud on top of mud" now.
The driveway is bad, too. Last fall, Randy and a friend of his hauled in some shale that had been excavated from the farm while my nephew was building his house.
The shale was mixed with enough clay so that the upper driveway became a quagmire after the rain. It was so bad that I almost did not get out when I had to leave on newspaper business Tuesday afternoon. Talk about a couple of bad moments. For a while there, I thought I would have to give it up and wait until Randy came home so we could pull the truck out with the 460 Farmall.
The mud will be around in one form or another, I'm sure -- solid and bumpy or soft and soupy -- until after everything thaws out next spring and the ground dries up for the summer.
I've got to say -- the mud doesn't do much to make it look much like Christmas around here.
The Christmas Helper -- My little Snowflake figured out how to get up on the bed the other day! I knew it was only a matter of time until she did. And now, instead of jumping out of the litter box or off the rocking chair, landing on her head and doing a somersault onto her back, she jumps and lands solidly on all four feet. She celebrated her 7th week birthday on Tuesday.
And while I was at a school board meeting Tuesday night, she helped Randy wrap Christmas presents.
"You should have seen Snowflake," he said to me the moment I walked in the door at around 9 p.m.
"What did she do?" I asked.
"She helped me wrap Christmas presents!" he said.
Randy figured he ought to wrap some more gifts, seeing as he is going to his mom and dad's this weekend for Christmas. I will not be able to go because we have practice for the Sunday School Christmas program on Saturday and then the program itself on Sunday. Since it appears that I am not only the Sunday school teacher but also the superintendent, I kind of figure I have to be there for the practice and the program. Plus I have to work Saturday afternoon, covering a former POW who will be speaking at an event in town.
"So," I said, "what did Snowflake do to help?"
Although she is not a very big cat yet, she is a typical cat because she likes to be in the middle of what you are doing. Tuesday morning, she helped me fill books orders. She kept climbing up on my legs and then crawling up on the table where she paraded around and played with my invoices and the tape and my labels and the stamps and whatever else she could find.
"Well," Randy said, "first she crawled up the back of my sweatshirt, and then she walked back and forth on my shoulders."
"Crawled up your sweatshirt, did she," I said.
He nodded.
"Then," he said, pausing for dramatic effect, "she crawled up on top of my head!"
"She did what?" I said.
"Crawled up on top of my head!"
"On top of your head?"
"Yup. Right on top of my head. Then she got back down on my shoulders and was sniffing my ear. Then she walked around on my shoulders some more."
Wouldn't you just know it.
Snowflake was doing something really cute -- and where was I? At a school board meeting.
"I wish I'd been here," I said. "I could have gotten pictures!"
After all, as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. And I would have dearly loved to have a picture of Snowflake sitting on top of Randy's head.
And if I'm lucky -- maybe next time.
LeAnn R. Ralph