Tuesday, June 02, 2009
A Bad Few Days In PsychopoodleLand
I'm just going to consolidate the latest of travails of Chester, the Psychopoodle.
On Sunday, Charlie walked Chester across the street to our neighbors' where he destroyed 8 goslings headed for their farm. It was a harsh lesson for the boy and his dog and a lot of crying all around.
Last night, upon arriving back at home from a visit to the grandparents, Chester evaporated. Aunt Laurie called at 9:30 pm to tell us that she'd heard a commotion outside her home 4 blocks away and went out to find Chester hit and flung, probably by a truck that hadn't bothered to stop. Lyle, our wonderful vet, was called and consulted. In hindsight, we should have taken him right in but we stayed up with him until close to 2 am. Scott stayed on the couch for the duration of the night and took him in to the clinic first thing this morning. Lyle x-rayed and did his best to reposition the badly broken pelvis, but is worried the sharp points could puncture the bowel. Lyle said he's not seen a break this bad before and still see the animal move. Chester has pulled himself up to move a few times and is still wagging his tail. He is crying a lot, but has not barked since last night.
I have brought him home. Lyle showed me how to lift him, using a sling. He is on Novox and anti-inflammatory injection. On the way to pick him up I stopped at the fabric store and bought a thick piece of foam wrapped in quilt batting that is now in a zipped dog pillow case. I stopped at the coffee shop and Karen followed me to the vet's to help bring him home. Augusta rode in the back of the station wagon and cradled his pin-head to keep him still. I have him sequestered in the laundry room, with the old Pink cat sleeping above him in his old-fogey basket. There is a lot of whimpering, but I have to keep him still as much as possible. Scott will call Lyle and get his recommendation. It may happen that we will need to take him to Billings for surgery. Of course, this all couldn't come at a worse time -- emotionally or financially.
This all may be a case of quick-acting goose karma. Or the squirrels of the neighborhood organized with the fowl survivors to put out an almost-successful hit. As you can tell, I have all sorts of theories. Fortunately for us, the neighbors are extremely good natured and they, like me, have an iron-clad alibi for last night at 9:30. Charlie did have to go over and apologize this morning for leading Chester over there that resulted in the carnage. I think many impressions have been made in just a couple of days.
Charlie and Augusta have both drawn pictures for Chester. He stood a few minutes ago, so I took him out in an effort to get him to pee away some more of the anesthetic, but no luck. I've also moved him out to the kitchen, in front of the stove and the whining has ceased. We are doing our best to keep a quite house for him. This damn dog...