Blog: Reflections from Rural Route 2

 

Wednesday, June 07, 2006, 19:39

Feeling Faint

Talk about a gruesome experience. I took Charlie to the vet clinic yesterday afternoon because the area around the sutures on his shoulder was so swollen and puffy.

The vet decided he ought to put in a drain tube.

With the vet tech holding our Springer Spaniel's front end and me holding his back end, the vet sliced into the skin next to the sutures. (He had already administered a local anesthetic.)

"Look out," he said. "It's going to gush."

And gush it did. There must have been a pint of blood-tinged fluid all together. A real mess. All over Charlie. All over the floor.

It only took a few minutes to insert the drain tube and suture it into the skin.

Then the vet helped me get Charlie out to the truck.

"Do you have towels?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Do you want more?"

"No," I said. "I think I've got enough."

I had one towel on the seat where Charlie was sitting, and I took the towel off my seat and put it over the back of Charlie's seat.

Charlie looked like an accident victim. Bright-red blood covered his chest from the top of his shoulder down to his legs.

"Okay, Charles," I said. "We're going to get home as quickly as possible. But I've got to go to the bank first."

When I pulled up at the drive-up window at the bank, the teller either almost had a heart attack or almost passed out -- or both.

"Oh, my God. What happened to your dog?" she said. "What happened to him?"

"He had surgery on his shoulder and just now, they put in a drain tube."

"Oh," she said.

Even through the glass by the drive-up window, I could tell she looked a little peaked and somewhat green.

The lady took care of my bank transaction -- and along with the deposit slip, included two biscuits for Charlie.

"I hope your dog gets better soon," she said.

"Me, too," I said.

As I drove away, I decided I felt a little green around the gills myself. The smell of blood was very strong in the truck. Even with the windows rolled down and the vent open and the fan on medium high.

Charlie started to lick and get himself cleaned up. It wasn't until we were out on the highway that he laid down on the seat.

"What are you doing Charlie?" I asked.

The dog was nosing around in the cupholder in front of the seats by the gear shift.

"Oh," I said. "Are you ready for your biscuits now?"

I had put Charlie's biscuits in the cupholder. And yes, indeed, he was ready for his biscuits.

By the time we got home, the towels were pretty well soaked with blood. I don't think any of it seeped into the upholstery, though.

It's a challenge, I have discovered, trying to keep Charlie from licking the sutures on his belly and from scratching the sutures on his shoulder. The backwards t-shirt works well for the belly, except that I think Charlie gets REALLY HOT when it's 90 degrees and he's wearing a t-shirt. The shirt covers not only his back end, but his flanks and back, as well.

So today, Charlie is wearing a pair of shorts.

Purple shorts.

Nylon, baggy, purple shorts.

I took a piece of twine string, knotted up the waistband, tied the twine string around the waistband and tied the twine string to Charlie's collar.

So far, the shorts are working out all right. Charlie doesn't seem to feel so over-heated with just the shorts on. But the shorts are enough to keep him from licking the sutures on his belly.

I must say, though. I certainly am getting my exercise, running outside every 10, 15 or 20 minutes to make sure that Charlie is all right, that he's not digging at the drain tube with his hind foot and that the shorts are staying up. . .

LeAnn R. Ralph