Argh. What a weekend. Some brilliant things ...
But Troy stops eating. He lies in a sun patch and shivers. He can't move more than a few yards without being exhausted. I'd always said "I'll know when he's dying because he'll stop eating." Well, he has done now. Not even Thai chicken or cocktail sausages will pass his lips.
Hardass smutwriter falls to bits and blubs.
On Monday (it had to be a holiday Monday, didn't it? Dogs are never ill on the cheap.) we get him to the vet and it turned out he has "the temperature from hell," and that his racing heartbeat does not match his femoral pulse. The vet says, "This is actually very interesting. Unfortunately, in medical terms 'very interesting' is a Bad Thing. Really you're better off being as boring as possible."
Cue one enormous shot of antibiotics and another of anti-inflamatory painkiller. We've got no idea what's going on but we need to tackle that temperature.
By the next morning Troy's asking for food. Today he has an ECG to see what's up with his heart and it turns out - nothing. He's fine.
Happiness, I find, is a dog who wants to eat.
5 comments:
Nothing!? Well, that's anti climactic.
My mother did say of some dogs once, that if they're in pain or discomfort, they feel like they're dying. Maybe he just had manflu?
Oh, thank goodness.
Hug him for me.
He's getting a lot of hugs right now!
Oh, I'm so glad he seems well. All love and healing and health to all of you.
Thanks, folks :-)
Damn, pets are painful. You know it's going to happen, but that doesn't make it any easier. And it doesn't get easier the second time or the third either ...
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