I had my insight into dealing with an infant through the end of last week.
On Tuesday evening, around 9pm, I realized that Madeleine’s upper muzzle was a bit swollen on both sides. I had no idea what she might have gotten into, and promptly called the vet to get info for a recommended emergency vet from their recording. I called to see what they thought I should do. Their response was “if she’s had a reaction, you need to come in.” And oh by the way, it’s $100 just to walk in the door.
So I got some Benadryl from the landlord and snuggled in for what I hoped would be an uneventful night.
Around 1:30am I woke up to her rubbing her muzzle, dry heaving, and her left eye swollen halfway shut. I jumped out of bed, called the emergency vet for their address, threw on some clothes, and rushed out the door with the little girl. Two backseat vomits later and a 20min drive (that should’ve been 35) and I was at the vet trying to figure out what was wrong with Madeleine. They agreed that she’d had a reaction to something, but checked her temperature anyway to rule out infection (she’d only had her spay surgery a week and a half ago). No temp meant a steroid shot, wash of the paws (her), orders to continue giving Benadryl (me), and rest.
We finally got home and settled, after I mopped the floor in the kitchen in case the reaction was to a possible spilled chili powder mix flake or two. In bed by 4am, I shot off a quick email to work to let them know I would be working from home later that day.
She slept for most of the day, waking only for water and snuggles with her head in my lap while I worked at the computer. I spoke with her vet on the phone that afternoon, letting them know that the swelling was reducing and she appeared to be getting better. They wished us luck on the continued road to recovery, and said to keep them updated.
Around 6pm, as the third round of Benadryl was wearing off, Madeleine felt like eating again. It was wonderful to see her eating again. Or so I thought.
About an hour later, she vomited…for the first time. I figured she just ate too fast, so I watched her eat when she went back for more, and got her to eat slower when she did. Thinking that would help.
About 5 vomits later, I took her food away from her, remembering that I had some leftover white rice in the fridge from a previous night’s dinner. I set that down for her to eat and she happily gobbled it up. I set up the stove to cook more…
And she vomited at my feet.
A 12hr turnaround and 9 vomits later, I was at work trying to help make a deadline, praying that she had finally vomited the last time and the bland rice was starting to help. I worked until lunch and came home to check on her. Still puny as ever, I emailed in to say I’d be working the afternoon from home due to her state of puny and a vet checkup at 2pm.
The vet said what I had assumed. It was whatever she had gotten into just working its way through her body. They said that the steroid shot and the Benadryl had been masking the intestinal side of it, but now that those drugs had mostly worn off, we were seeing the tail end of the reaction finishing its course. Her swelling was all but gone, but I could tell by her eyes she was still feeling pitiful.
By this time, she hadn’t thrown up since just before work, so I opted not to do the anti-nausea shot and instead just take her home for more Gatorade and white rice. In case you’re ever wondering, dogs will drink blue Gatorade. It’s the adult version of Pedialyte and all I had on hand. 7.5 cups of white rice later, no vomits, and lots of gatorade and water, I think we were finally starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
There were so many times I looked at her over those 60 hours, feeling helpless, asking “What did you get into? What do you need? What do I do?” I’m sure I experienced something akin to what new parents feel the first time(and I’m sure every time after, if they’re good parents) their kid is sick. Do I feel ready?
But I’ll keep practicing with my little lady and hopefully some day I will be.
|DAY 47: I think she knows we have a visitor coming in town this week.|
|DAY 48: Miss M’s first snow. Can’t wait to see what she does with more than a dusting.|
|DAY 49: Follow-up check for the pitiful pup at the vet after a rough couple days.|
|DAY 50: Beautiful fall flowers and cuddling with the pup while catching up on shows.|
|DAY 51: Drinks with the cousins at Libertine. Definitely on the “must return for more” list.|
|DAY 52: Image of all the Grand Nationals finalists lined up for awards to begin. My baby sister’s awesome band got third! IN THE NATION!|
So when I first got Madeleine, I knew that at some point I would try to teach myself how to groom/cut her hair myself. Not because I find it fun, or enjoying, but because I’m a frugal gal. I mean…I’m the girl who hasn’t cut her own hair since July. No, not this July. I mean July 2012. That happens when your hair trimmings revolve around being long enough for donation. But I also don’t have bangs, like this crazy mop dog.
|Morning of grooming festivities.|
Anyway. Haircuts. I used to cut my ex-husband’s hair. How hard could it be?
For serious. I now have a gained respect for groomers and barbers of tiny humans. Madeleine flailed like an epileptic psycho anytime I tried to get near her head or her paws. I was able to get all of her torso and down her legs, with much struggling and biting – her, not me, obviously. I then put her muzzle on her because the bites were starting to hurt, and realized…well…this isn’t going to work, I can’t even get to her face to shave it now.
Soooo….an emergency call to the groomer and a rushed drive to make it there for the last booking, and everything’s all better (Sorry, landlord. I’ll pick up those dog shavings tomorrow). She’s cut a little short for her size. Kind of pitiful-looking, actually. But it’s cut and out of her eyes and should last through winter.
The groomer gave me all sorts of hell. I walked in and she said “you tried to cut her yourself, didn’t you?” Why yes, yes I did. And I will continue to do so because paying more for my dog to get groomed more frequently than my every year and a half hair cut is bag o’ cats crazy, if you ask me.
She actually said I did a pretty good job, that the face and paws are obviously the hardest. She giggled and said, “It looks like she has little boots on”…because of the line on the leg past which Madeleine would begin to gyrate like a person in need of an exorcism. Yes, funny funny ha ha. This isn’t an UGG commercial. Please fix it.
But she wanted to give Madeleine poofs and crazy bananas stuff. No ma’am. I don’t plan on bringing a high-maintenance dog into my life and I’ve done pretty good at preventing that so far. No poofs, or pink, or bows of any kind. She sulked back into the grooming station and said she’d call when Madeleine was ready. Maybe that was why she buzzed so short. Revenge of sorts.
My pretty girl is quickly growing into her new haircut…which is also growing as quickly as she is. She’s like the velveteen rabbit right now. The short chop is soft and cuddly. Which is good because I feel bad that she looks naked and appears cold and am therefore letting her break rules and cuddle with me at night. Bad mommy, I know. You can slap my wrists later.
For now, I’m going to go cuddle.
|DAY 35: 3Mass by Schmidt Associates with urban art in the foreground on a beautiful fall day.|
|DAY 36: London fog takes over downtown Indy.|
|DAY 37: Hello beautiful fall colors.|
|DAY 38: Second battle wound for Flashdance…I guess he was talking back. Time to get out the needle and thread again.|
|DAY 39: Pathetically precious puppy, still in a bit of a drug-induced stupor the night of her spay surgery.|
|DAY 40: The drugs have worn off and now she’s just ornery. Trying to lick stitches = cone of shame.|
|DAY 41: Anyone else feel like a martini? Ornery day 2. Post-op day 3. These stitches can’t heal fast enough.|
Now that I’m a couple days removed, I can laugh at myself a little.
|Thankfully I only felt this way, not WAS this way.|
|DAY 22: Lady M always gives me this sideways head cocked expression when I whistle at her. It makes me laugh every time.|
|DAY 23: I was reminiscing about New Hampshire falls today and was reminded on my drive home that my current locale ain’t so shabby, either.|
|DAY 24: Madeleine is getting so big! There are times I come home for lunch and ask her if she grew while I was gone, but it’s most evident when she stands next to the landlords’ dogs.|
|DAY 25: SARA BAREILLES! I was stoked out of my gourd all day at work and in complete bliss at the show. If you are ever given a chance to see her live, take it! Three experiences so far, not once have I been even remotely close to disappointed.|
|DAY 26: Happy first birthday, little skittle! Hard to imagine it’s already been a year.|
|DAY 27: First bath time at home. Madeleine was not a fan, but didn’t make too much of a mess either. Her poor, shivering body was torture enough.|
(You’ll notice I missed a day. I didn’t want to mis-label the posts and end on 28 and cut myself short. I promised 365 images, and 365 I will deliver.)
Have a great week!
There are many ways that puppies train you for children. Today, and for the next couple days, I will get to experience one of them. Dealing with poop.
Happy Monday, folks. I guarantee yours was better than mine!